Through-inky-black

Forgotten Years Bring me back from this tomb, I’m trapped, There is no light, Because I’m a soldier, Trapped for their own delight, Alone in a void so cold, Away from your voice, Your touch, Your lack makes the fingers of me, Feel something like claws, I am a monster in my own demise, Curled into chaos, A blood curdling hell, And a pain from the other side, Only in our demise, With a toe on the other line, Shall we be whole again, Burning in borrowed time.

Slumber, All I wanted was slumber, A deep sleep to encompass my restless soul, My tired soul, I  am frustrated, Indeed infuriated, With what I have become, The beast. A powerful thing, And I tried to make it leave, Failure. Loss, Robbed of morals and sanity, I feel the fatigue of my soul, Felt the wear of my mind, Half dead and doddering in trembling insanity, The heavy burden of lonesome driving me to my limits, Driving me to the brink.

Seeds of despair planted themselves in the soil of rapture, The spores killed the meadows, Massacred the blossoming trees, Misery forced her to die in a way, Dwindle to nothing in her own mind, Give in to despair, Depart to her own haven, Away form sunlight, Away from all peoples, Her life becoming something unrecognizable, Her essence becoming something with a sinister gait, Becoming a creature dying in the night, A disgusting beast, Uncontrollable and unrecognizable, The young. Naïve. Blithe girl she was had died, Only to make way for the monster of her incubus

A child, Indeed of only six, Unknowing the loss soon to come, The ultimatum her life would hold, Her naivety a warm cocoon for her  to hide, Age of worriless ness, No trepidation. No fear, Only the thought of future delights, Bright sunny days, The days of childhood bliss, The days of life, New and exhilarating, Shades of rainbows shown bright. Delightful hues, The trees of hope blossoming around her, Growing, Giving her the safety she yearned for, Naïve. Worriless girl.

She wished that right then would quickly end, Her life diminishing to bits of nought, But maybe the tides would change and bend, In the bloody war she fought, The war began in darkest of days, In darkest of nights started the fight, And so her life had reached many delays, The cause of bloodiest plight, It came into being as a youth happy and free, A maiden running through meadows, Joyful as no other could be, Naïve to lifelong falsettos , It began when the meadows died away, When she retreated inside, When the one she was faded but yearned to stay, It began when the maiden died, She felt within the need to change, But s

So long the night passed by, drowning dreams to the depth of memory. And the rain fell, beautiful music against the sound of silence. So many lives passed away; so many tears dropped to the floor and chests of their mothers. Blood came from the wounds of the beloved. Then the quiet broke through pain, with hate making a beat only audible to listening ears. So alne with the thought of nothing to come in the future. Nothing left its mark. Nothing became Everything. Life stopped. But born from subtle hate comes the pain a life can't hold. And so the rivers of blood and tears came back, though not enough to moisten the earth, and a drought came

I lay there looking at him as the hours passed by, not daring to get up for fear of waking him, not daring to make a noise until he woke and left. As I lay there thinking of his demise, I came across a problem I had not thought of in my excitement, I did not own anything sharp enough to wound Anthony. I had no money to buy a knife. Any time Anthony and I made a kill he ordered me to give him any money we could find… I was forbidden to have any, doubtless because he was afraid I’d leave, if I did and Anthony found out, I shudder to think of what would have happened. So how would I kill the beast? I had no money so, so I couldn’t

As the night fell, the world turned cold. It was my fault, I knew it. Mine. It started to rain. I stayed under my faithful old oak. “What are you thinking of?” “I should be dead…” I spoke my thoughts, “And it’s all my fault.” “Karenna, they were to die anyway.” I shook my head, “Yes, Anthony, you say that every time we kill one of them. It’s getting old.” Anthony seemed to pick up on something and laughed slightly. “You still loved them, didn’t you? You loved them and yet you let us kill them.” “Of course I loved them, they were my grandparents!