PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

(Excerpt from Damien's Lost Script Chapter Three)

Chapter Three

'The Muse'

I grew lost within her seductive trance. Feeling the rhythm in tandem to the beating of my own heart and I knew the deal was just signed by the devil herself. My desire quickly escaped my grasp as I tried so very hard to remain strong and in control, however my passion took over and I once again found myself at the mercy of temptation once more. Was my fate finally sealed?

I had gave in, knowing full well the price to be paid. What I had enjoyed only moments before will now hound me until the day I die. That nagging voice in the back of my mind, whispering and taunting me that I had succumbed to a moment of weakness and for that another regret is burned into my soul, a reminder of a bad choice. A mistake that I now must try and learn from. “I had fallen for a dream, fell hard and way to fast. I knew it was doomed from the start, a dream never meant to last.”

When I wake. I will find myself alone as the dream fades back into the recess of my subconscious mind. My eyes will open once more adjusting to the foggy haze as it filters out the last remnants of the images and thoughts experienced only moments before. Washing out the old allowing for the new day to bring to me an unsung muse. Where in this life inspiration is nothing short of a gamble.

The deed is done. My soul bartered for some twisted carnal desire, satisfied by a fleeting moment. The devil stole my pride, as she denied me the gratification and instead chained me to the rack of desolation. Where hope, your only source for strength becomes contaminated by her greatest skill. She will speak lies to your ear and on this day when you look within that mirror, you will realize that you are facing the worst parts of your own self.

'To Woe'

For my friend of Sorrow by;

'The Dead Poet'

My beautiful friend, oh sorrow. I know you well

to even be there for me tomorrow. I've seen the pale stare,

from the dead rider with no soul, no whisper of care.

To lust for the Mistress of lost intent. Rape the
values from your heart to only then repent.

Save yourself;

“The wicked children, who masquerade as men

sailing under a banner of sin, a game and nothing more to them.

Forgive and forget, the worse we get. Bartering flesh and soul

just to get your next fix.”

To woe, this bitter taste I know. To admit defeat,

every damn mistake I've managed to repeat. As sorrow

will be there shadowing my feet. The mocking joke

that this became my life, the same hidden gem in disguise.

Save yourself;

“I slip into complacency in the way I allow others to treat me.

Constantly in a struggle for self credibility.

A vicious cycle that only perpetuates the loathing and torment.

To slip inside the blue waterfall, and gaze on perfection.

Dreaming of distant worlds, all the while

failing your own conscious thought.”