A Black Rose

I walked pass a thousand flesh,

Lifeless body on a terrain of death,

But there it stood, a flower that crude,

Upon a shattered man that bears no truth.

A flower so dark, shines befall the moon,

Silvery black petals and so it blooms,

A distant echoes running through the veins,

 So shallow that the flower sang.

A melody that seems so grim,

Dragging me towards it as if I was limbed,

My heart trembles as the sound goes near,

For as long as the blood drips, all it sheaves is fear.

Then I returned as such abomination was sent,

Back to my home where my lies were tend,

There you were sitting, reminiscing the past,

For that person you hid, with your lust.

So we touched, as we are but one,

But you left me, for all the damned that was done,

So, I plucked this dark flower from the dead,

With it cries, hoped that this would be ended.

But it’s fortunate to say I’m sorry,

Because I only could give you is this my love,

A black rose for your black heart,

In debt by Death, as misery is always what you are.

Freed

Our Curse

Creatures of the Night

Blackness,

covered the eyes,

darkness,

filled the skies,

critters crawling underneath,

shadows splits,

windy mist sang their song,

the dead awaken,

stand on their stones,

the soil shaken,

intimidated by the souls,

hunters lurking,

sang their lovely sorrows,

breeds howling,

kneeled with their shattered jaw,

by the wings of lust,

shall the blood burns as a victim,

with twisted eyes,

all shall be turn to bits.

Preys hiding,

scared by the everlasting curse,

all praying,

to see the light once again,

waiting,

till the darkness gone,

but all is wrong,

thought of having the chance,

but the song dragged them,

rivers of blood,

dare to be sucked,

all gone.

Darkness sang for the triumph,

break of laughter,

as it gets colder,

let there be no mercy,

for whom they be,

because none shall fight,

the creatures of the night.

Freed

The Sea of Black Tears

Some said it’s hollow,

But all I see is darkness,

From the lines to the shore,

Nothing but numbness.

The tears of Death they said,

Keeping the souls of the dead,

But temptation crosses,

As so my faith forever lost.

All does rhymes,

But the truth always intertwined,

They’re the same,

For left was just being shamed.

You asked for changes,

But you’d change restlessly,

And so I stayed careless,

Because your tears meant nothing.

Why my dear,

As so you cried thousand dark tears,

Which they believe a curse,

But all I see is thirst.

Until now, here it becomes,

Both stranded on an island,

Holding together in arms,

 Upon the sea of your black tears.

Freed

Twisted Lines

I grew tired from this pain, as none that I achieved is gained. 

Such minds are corrupted, by the devil they did sprouted. 

As so many lives had passed, what would you gain from this blasphemy of lust? 

Such curse was to be real, for there are no angels that will heal.

A riddle for the twisted, oh so I heard.

But is there a true message behind all these eerie lines,

Should you believe or not, is what will you find. 

Confuse 2

There were two roses beside me on that day.

As calamity was one sort of curse.

One dies as a result of that.

So I embrace the other till now.

But the Devil was cruel and twisted.

And so I lose the other.

Pain struck me inside, like vines with thorns cut my every flesh.

Such agony.

As a simpleton won't know the meaning of being left alone.

For loneliness was like a suicide, and so I killed myself.

The Trees on This Soil

Creeping the life between my shadows, unknowingly the torturing of the sentiment from the ruler, what kind of a sick maniac would mock his own people?

It’s a matter of speech, a diplomatic crusade that the evil has let us through, but for once, a cruelty, oppression, slavery, such sorrows pops up between life and death. 

Only because of a dumb president, I cried by the shade to run away, leaving the soil upon our blood was shed to, replacing our soul with another culture to become something else other than a living dead under a dead Oak. As we Maples were just poor trees of nothingness except full of heart. 

A lying crow form a pack with a lone wolf, showing unmorally disgusting act of in front of the people, the children of all children, given the days full of torments, as hell as this world can be, none such same should be done to unofficially innocence of a man, who we cannot assume the crime whether or not he committed, and so the legends of tyranny is true as undyingly we create a new one.

All we want is a place where we could live upon our bloody soils without any tears of hatred, sorrows, darkness, where our heart lies to the demon that enraged us. 

We the roots of the trees just sitting here idle for the comments of our tyrant in his transformation speech to use us as a tool to create his promised green with billings lands, whether we should is out of the question. Because I won’t live another day to serve this ruler, as of what we could do is only wait for the time when an alliance form a coup d’état to throw this Oak tree government away. 

Such agony……..

My Dark Angel

You came that night,

releasing me from my cage,

although you’ve given all your rights,

to the demon lies within rage,

You took it all away from me,

my sorrows and darkness,

so that I could live to see,

this world without pain and sadness;

I kept remembering you,

even though our love isn’t true,

but you said that you would care,

for me whose just a mortal,

Dark chains won’t release the ties,

even when you’re far away,

you tried to be nearer as it lies,

so that you could comfort this fray;

But it was too good to be real,

as the blood bounds to run out soon,

for I had to let you be freed,

with my own hands of severed thorn,

So live my beloved sorrows,

run as you hold my darkness,

for as long as you lived,

you will always be my Dark Angel.

The Dark Ones

Blood craze inside my body,
the word daze within my insight,
the soil crumbles within my grasp,
the word on every men’s mouth would be screams and whines,
the red carpet shall be spewed with blood,
the devils shall live the day as the dark cloud would be our ally,
and all the mere humans can knee across the plain of their ancestors soil,
begging so that we wouldn't need to sacrifice their flesh and blood,
cries wailing marked the song of triumph,
as we demons wouldn’t know the meaning of love and care.

A Losing Game

I see the damn crowd,

brewing into some illiterate conscious,

where they awoken by that damn blood,

where none shall escape from this undying game.

The lies wouldn't be unveil,

by this overlapping curse of one man,

  but it shall sticks into one account of yours, truly,

then another shall take it into theirs.

The world was just a pit,

for this undying little flesh,

where it all can go wrong,

within a split second of choices.

A heart of sympathies wouldn't last long,

a wrong choices made it look bad,

for this undying wish to continue,

a losing game need to be created.

As for i, the legions are long gone,

the kin will no longer speaks of this tragedy,

where the game needs rest,

as for new era will rise to play.

Even then.....

Where the brood begins, vengeance lies,

but the war is just another beginning,

where the predators starts to unveil,

the cruelty of sins and darkness will spread;

Search the relics of a forgotten tomb,

to find none except what had passed,

to rely on it is just another mistake,

where the end lies within the swarm;

The hatred, these feelings,

intrigued by the weaklings,

can't be hold by whom are wicked,

as it proves to be the destruction of my kinds;

Started with a womb,

a little menace of sins,

vengeance shall be breed,

while the innocents started to fade;

The brood lies within my feelings,

but the feeling is just a faded memory,

only revenge remain in this womb,

where hell is about to be unbound.

“The Beast”

The pain is excruciating,

so dark that it reveals hatred,

black inside out,

all are diminished,

except this wound,

of a broken heart.

A nightmare,

hugging this creature

with poison thorns,

sticking into its flesh,

suckling its red,

but black instead.

And this dark vines,

searching for vengeance,

but find none

except loss,

as the Death would promise,

where it would end.

While holding this jet-black rose,

this beast will arise,

and consume that is none,

and leave it as it is there,

so shall will it be,

when this shall ends.

Hatred would be this soul,

vengeance would be this heart,

and so shall this blood,

and the beast,

shall live throughout

your life’s.