Desperate Cries

An old poem by me that I love so very much. A fallen angel must sacrifice her happiness to continue to live...

Out in the darkness,
Screaming but unheard,
Embracing the deception,
No truth, no recollection.
My pain has no real word.

Blood pours from my body,
Tears pour from my eyes,
Love and hate,
A twisted fate,
Now time for me to die.

Desperate cries,
To the gods above,
Desperate cries,
To the one I love.
Desperate cries,
To cover my lies,
Desperate cries,
To conceal fear in my eyes.

To suffer through life,
Is like a living hell,
My pain I shall keep,
To myself, in this deep,
On this earth, where I will dwell.

Fallen angels beckon me,
Summoning me unto their lair,
Deceit and pain,
Blood pours like rain,
Caught in a devious snare,

Shall my soul rest,
For the first time in years?
Or shall I cry,
Until I die,
Drowning in my tears?

Desperate cries,
To the gods above,
Desperate cries,
To the one I love.
Desperate cries,
To find my fate,
Desperate cries,
Of love and hate.

No bandages to heal me,
No one to comfort thee,
Desperate cries,
And all the lies,
I'm blind and cannot see.

Trying to heal a broken heart,
Trying to save a soul in despair.
Torment and regret,
A painful tourniquet,
A heavy burden to bare.

I've tried to kill the pain,
But to no avail.
Crimson tears,
I've bled for years,
Death would not prevail.

So now I die,
Slowly and ceaselessly,
Wearing away,
A little each day,
No end in sight for me.

Desperate cries,
To the gods above,
Desperate cries,
To the one I love,
Desperate cries,
Wishing to expire,
Desperate cries,
Death I desire.

No longer living,
No longer dead,
An endless being,
Never seeing,
All but what's in my head.

Twisted fate,
Dishonest deities,
Denied of my grave,
Death's earthly slave,
Immortality decrees.

A sickly being I've become,
Feasting on human hearts.
Killing the innocents,
Cruel, malevolence,
Death is an evil art.

Desperate cries,
To the gods above,
Desperate cries,
To the one I love,
Desperate cries,
To an immortal slave,
Desperate cries,
So I can be saved..

Author's Note

Please keep in mind I wrote this poem nearly 10 years ago when I was still a teen.

Reviews

[Jibey]

Well, yes... It has the ring of teenage emotions about it... the longing for a consummation that impacts on a confusing world, a cri de coeur which wants to self-destruct.. But in the very words lies the energy and vitality that has made you rise, phoenix-like, to revel in who you are and to find the solace of the senses, the petit mort that releases and rejuvenates the soul