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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1940614-The-Dark-Arisen
Rated: 18+ · Poetry · Other · #1940614
Pornography of poetry.
A hunger within
A shadow of hate
I o bide my sin
A death I anticipate

I fall so far down on my knees
Stung by blades like a thousand bee's
I lay on the floor thriving in pain
Begging never to feel again
And so I feel the dark crowd me
It consumes and surrounds me
I abide it's ways and become whole with the dark
For it's my only refuge an unholy ark
As that of which resides within my mind
Is the only confinement I can find
I refuse to let it go as it's my only safety
My only way of feeling
No hope, nothing, no way of healing
So I go with the flow
I feel no more, and I refuse to know
TO know the feeling of happiness
Although I lust to feel once again
I know my only friend will be my pain
Because after-all I've only felt unwanted
Every piece of good I've given, flaunted
And after being treated like a dogs chew-toy
Shadows of hate soon deploy
I confide within my inner demons
As they're my only friend
Who have stood by me to the bitter end
As I raise the blade to my ribs, my thighs, my wrists
The demons shout and they insist to persist
Ripping flesh, tearing out chunks
Blood pours out like sticky spunk
It drops to the floor cold and black
More addictive to taste than an addict to crack
I lick my own blood as the taste is desire
I feel compelled to throw myself into a fire
Though within my mind a fire does rage
And with everyday shadows grow amongst my age
I feel no regret no remorse, no need to care
Because as far as I'm concerned
Nothing in this god fucking forsaken life is fair
So i let my demons tie me down in a bdsm sesh
They will slice and tear and rape me
Till blood and tears run down fresh
They whip and chain me like a whore in strip-club
And so I become the shadow cherub
I fly around driving arrows of spite
Into the innocent necks through the night
I invoke my wrath of hate and fire
To those whom others admire
Though I so hate with such a passion
Due to all the trends they've made a fashion
Disgusting little fuckers will soon feel my blade
As they are lowered 6feet below into dirt and shade.
My hate is my friend, and my genocidic butterfly my guide
Both of which I will only consider to confide.
Fuck the world
Fuck the world
Fuck the world
Fuck it all
Fuck you
Fuck me
Fuck everything!

- This poem is in dedication to my history.
My history that so haunts me day in and out, scars my mind.
And thus I appreciate all that my genocidic butterfly has done for me.
I admire my genocidic butterfly day in and day out as it's stood by me through more than anything imaginable.
As for the "trends made a fashion" those fucking hipsters that feel it necessary to trend self-harm and suicide as if it's some form of MUST do scenario? FUCK. YOU YOU DISGUSTING LITTLE FUCKBAGS.
Anywho. That is all , thank you for reading.
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