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The thin line
Folder:
Poems Hate is the barren pit...
Marked by the veneer of loathing,
Inspired by an eternal longing.
The hole where flames once lit,
Burnt fiercely ever giving,
Such is love, naively trusting.
Those who would in their holes sit,
Never cease... their venomous cursing,
In truth hopes blinds them,
Ember of pasts lives...
For that lost warmth forever searching.
Those who hate, go on loving,
Til their cold fires are devoured,
Just like the warm ones...
Surrender to exhaustion,
Some people never learn.
There in the pit,
Raise your salt crusted face from the dirt you scrabble in,
So desperate, so pathetic...
Pierce the silence of your despair!
A keening howl rushes out of your throat.
Ripping through to soar through the night sky,
You cough out the last of your lifeblood,
You've no soul but you'll never bleed again.
Never loving, never hating,
But always...
Always feeding,
Wraiths like us....
Now bite down and drink deep,
You know...
Just like we did to you
