It contains poetry of my own, stuff that I wrote billion years ago or stuff just now.
But warning I must, my writing is very bad and not worth your time, so if you feel like wasting time read.
It doesn't matter if you like or not (no offense)
But warning I must, my writing is very bad and not worth your time, so if you feel like wasting time read.
It doesn't matter if you like or not (no offense)
What is love?
Posted 08-03-2009 at 01:55 PM by αρнσтι¢ єι∂σℓση
Fogs and mist
Creeping from an everlasting gist
Reaches with ghastly claws
To where roses enroot with beauteous pose
Their mischievous aura lay
Blood red roses slowly fading away
Ashes replace the once gorgeous orchard
No soul survived nor a breath was left for an amateur bard
To illustrate, reflect it as a shining sun
One revived, strong with might
Full of shame, stripped from every right
No gems to spill tears
No heart to skip a beat
Screaming shall be heard
A wolf to yowl, teeth dripping with the blood of the herd
Extirpation of roots
Our black rose has been found and now being slaughtered by fools
Fogs and mist
Creeping from an everlasting gist
Russet fume fly from the great crater
Reaches the sky, turn it into a darkened feature
Yet the black rose of ours smiles grievingly
She embraces the darkness outside greedily
Within obscurity is a sea to be lost in
No shore to encircle, filled with filth and gins
A light breaks from the east
Amaurotic our dear rose is
Is it that trivial thing they call love?
What is love, if we have obsession, addiction?
No speak for the obvious was ever there
Only amateurs and Romeo believers might utter
The ones that are not seen
The ones that are only heard
Myth!
History!
How men can knows it true?
Shall I speak or shall I speak?
What to say and what to leave?
Diminutive or significant?
Treasonous or kind?
One cannot decide nor can I
What is love?
Creeping from an everlasting gist
Reaches with ghastly claws
To where roses enroot with beauteous pose
Their mischievous aura lay
Blood red roses slowly fading away
Ashes replace the once gorgeous orchard
No soul survived nor a breath was left for an amateur bard
To illustrate, reflect it as a shining sun
One revived, strong with might
Full of shame, stripped from every right
No gems to spill tears
No heart to skip a beat
Screaming shall be heard
A wolf to yowl, teeth dripping with the blood of the herd
Extirpation of roots
Our black rose has been found and now being slaughtered by fools
Fogs and mist
Creeping from an everlasting gist
Russet fume fly from the great crater
Reaches the sky, turn it into a darkened feature
Yet the black rose of ours smiles grievingly
She embraces the darkness outside greedily
Within obscurity is a sea to be lost in
No shore to encircle, filled with filth and gins
A light breaks from the east
Amaurotic our dear rose is
Is it that trivial thing they call love?
What is love, if we have obsession, addiction?
No speak for the obvious was ever there
Only amateurs and Romeo believers might utter
The ones that are not seen
The ones that are only heard
Myth!
History!
How men can knows it true?
Shall I speak or shall I speak?
What to say and what to leave?
Diminutive or significant?
Treasonous or kind?
One cannot decide nor can I
What is love?
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