A bit of Dark Poetry

/ Writing - Poetry / By morbidtheduckie [+Watch]

Replies: 55 / 3 years 34 days 3 hours 39 minutes 10 seconds



If you like dark poems then you've come to the right thread :D

I would really appericate it if you would give me your opinion on what you thought, thanks :D

Blood drips down onto the slow ticking hands
of the ancient clock.

Life has all but left his body,
yet his undying soul still remains attached
to his paling corpse.

Cursed by the sun,
and mocked by
the hand of Death.

The hands of the clock,
slowly cease their tick-tock
as this dark being takes in blood
from his victim.

Coursing through his veins,
this ruby red liquid sustains this being,
keeping him with his dark brothers and sisters.

Blood is his drug.
His cravings are never silenced,
never ceased.
Always hunting
with his hungry red eyes.

Blood drips down onto the slow ticking hands
of the ancient clock.)

*****
Snow falls to the blood soaked ground,
the whiteness is taken over by the red liquid.
A trail of crimson cuts through the white, running
from its original point.

A body lays limp, dying.
Tears fall out of her eyes,
and she cries out.

Her voice echoes throughout the hallow forest,
Reverberating off of the trees,
and soon passing into abyss.

Wind now blows, peacefully moving the falling snow.
Her blood is now a frozen arrow, pointing to her
dying body.

She watches the last snow flakes gracefully touch her face
As the last breath leaves her body, and frees her soul.

*****

Night befell the red and orange fray.
Buildings collapsed with their eyes turned
to the moon as the transform to ash.

The moon looked on in horror,
as she watched the nightmare
opening before her.

People ran into the divided streets,
like rats fleeing from dark nightly creatures.
They ran until their lungs filled with black ash, and fire,
soon collapsing to the shattered ground
cold and unmoving.

Fire choked up the city’s soul.
It held the buildings hostage,
and it rampaged through the dead or dying structures,
like a child running through trees.

As soon as the fires came, they left;
and the world cooled down,
to an almost eerie, noiselessness, wonder.

Ash covered living ones knelt down besides dead ones.
Wails of pain soon erupted,
as the people soon realized what as happened to them.

Both the living and dead wailed to the moon
the moon heard the cries of the living,
but sole messenger of the weeping dead,
was Silence himself.

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