Traitor

Cold and warm,

An aching throb

Crystal fire,

A burning mob

He watches the haze

On a midnight day

It's drawing near,

come out to play,

with the tangled glow

Of angelic decay.

He looks down and asks,

What's beneath this two-faced mask?

His silent shout,

Heard by none

Pale bodies scattered,

What has he done?

With an empty heart,

He clawed the earth in mournful madness

Longing to smell once more

Death’s own fragrance

Author's Note

General opinions welcome

Reviews

[The Exiled Wolf]

I admire how you choose the words - the silent shout, the angelic decay- these lines are purely beautiful. The final line is impressive - I like the hint of regret in there. This piece provokes so many imaginations, and I'm impressed!