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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Death · #1230219
This is the poem that I have written. The poem is pretty dark.
Hope is Lost.
All are dead.
But one remains.
A crisis is at hand as the grim reaper draws near.
A young man is lost as mindless soldiers seek to slaughter him.
Far from paradise, nearing an abyss of madness.
No one is there to lend a helping hand.
Against all odds, the hunted decides to take a stand against the cold blooded hunter.
Nothing to lose, nothing to fear as the killers draw near.
Courage has now possessed the soul.
The vulture spots its prey as the youth charges towards it.
This last stand of bravery is crushed swiftly as a cold steel monster tastes some blood.
Birds fly away in terror, the wind howls gusts of darkness and the sun disappears as blood shed now reigns supreme.
The wind comforts the land in a saddening way as light no longer exists
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