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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1538836
Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Death · #1538836
The heart can break, but it can be reborn...
Piercing inquisition;
Eyes that burn
Like the flames of a thousand fires,
Which are sure to condemn.
To kill.

Straight to the soul.
Lowering its worth.

"Witch, witch."
Cries resound in my mind
Like vibrations reverberating
Off the walls in a narrow passageway.
They burn.

The fires that could mean my death
Consume my every thought.

One fateful night;
One desperate act
Haunts for eternity
And is means to ruin a man.
To end.

As the wood piles
The fire burns.

My heart
Feels ripped away.
My body denies me
Any sort of comfort.
In my pain.

As my skin chars
So does my pride.

And now as I bleed
My mind surrenders
To the call which beckons me.
My fall has been my condemnation.
I give in.

Now my body smolders
And from the ashes I am born.
© Copyright 2009 James P. Brighton (icarusfalls at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1538836