Deep in the dark depths of a bitter heart came nothing. A light shone from the mind as it opened its dark winged gates to possibilities. Voice was heard as the grey clouds showed a glowing silver lining. Song erupted from a choir of angels or was it laughter from demons? A white room filled with dark blurred figures, roaming. A lonely cry summoned not a reply. The black eyes, searching for the black soul of matching qualities, never to find one. As the tree grows, do the roots begin to decay? Sucking up all in its path, the storm gathers strength. I lingered between sudden silence and incessant screaming, closed. Do not the birds sing, or am I hearing things again? Dark psalms from the voices deepen. Lament the day of Death’s visit, can you hear the bell toll? Time flies, leaving behind no goodbye, solemnly. No tries from my heart broken yet divine. Searching among the decayed heaps, the darkness prevailed as Death came again. Stealing, blowing, pushing, and pulling away at the light in my mind, opened to possibilities. Movement on the horizon. Distrusting from the birthing mother to the oldest birth. Hatred blossoms like a bloody rose, creeping up the blue trellises. The bipolar figure stands in the way, trying to hold back the storm raging against him. Watching him fall, weak and broken, fills my dark heart with plotting happiness. Eyes turning dull red as the soul harbors corruption and feels nothing. Bitterness, sadness, and depression fills the view of a dead soul. Suicide becomes thoughts of many, none are more prominent. Voices inside become loud as voices without are blocked. Warnings fall on deaf ears and a heart of stone. There is no light at the end of the tunnel, for the tunnel breaks under pressure. The smell of lightning burns the noses of enemies. I strike. All fall at my feet, crumbling beneath me. Claws, leaving bloody stubs, I climb. Reaching the highest point only to find another storm raging. The injury this time, lost behind hallucinations from lab coats. No flights had been sobering, only the collapsed tunnel of Death keeps him here. Finally the dam breaks, allowing the flooding. Solemn hatred for man seems to relish in our power. Voices simmer, waiting for the next scene. Light shows upon the distant horizons as the free line draws ever closer. I am creeping towards the deep chasm waiting for it to close its own gap. I leap across, hoping to reach the other side. Freedom bound is this dark soul. Even though lava boils deep beneath the crust at the insubordinate figures at my feet. My inner voice cries out, never to be heard, falling upon the cresting waves, washed out to sea. The closely woven trellis begins to be crushed as the weaving comes under attack by thorns. Crumbling mountain sides begin to pommel the great climber. Now falling upon barren fields, I wait in silence. No tears stain the ground beneath me, unwilling to allow growth. Time begins to slow as the volcano begins to rage, spewing of steam and ash.
Freedom bound is this dark soul, until the crashing waves carry me away.
Report a Policy Violation
the news article as well as check out the individual pieces. We understand that each day you may not be able to check out each and every one of the pieces, everyone has their own things going on. We just ask that you make an attempt to help support the growing Literature community.
Follow us on Twitter
Become a fan on Facebook
Comments