-
Locked behind closed doors
Where you breath turns to ice
To a place the sun has never seen
My refuge
Cold silver handles
Intricately carved
With a language all my own
Painted over with
Images depicting battles
Won and lost
Myself the creator
Of these struggles each time
Inside these doors
Vacant halls
A labyrinth of
A history not meant to be
One candle lights a desk
The leather bound book
Laid open upon it
The smell of the ink
Is still in the air
Its metallic taste is foreboding
Upon approaching the old tome
I find the last words rite
There writer recently departed
And the ink still reflective and fresh
Glancing to the story there
All I see is
A statement that often goes
Unthought-of
But very effective in its fullness
The end.
- by Sacre Cerf |
- Poetry And Lyrics
- | Submitted on 10/28/2008 |
- Skip
- Title: End.
- Artist: Sacre Cerf
-
Description:
A poem i wrote on the spurr of the moment, then realized it went along with a story that im working on currently.....if anyone wants to read the story then pm me. Also i have other writting in my journal and om my pro.
I KNO THER IS NO PUNCTUATION!! I DO NOT USE ANY IN MY WRITTING OF POETRY!.......thanks - Date: 10/28/2008
- Tags: doorsend
- Report Post
Comments (1 Comments)
- im_not_sane24-7-365 - 10/28/2008
- your poems are so beautiful thaey make me want to cry...
- Report As Spam