Demons

Monday, March 03, 2008

Shadows play off the walls through the reflection of the endless darkness.
Stil is the air,
Unmoving and icy.
So cold it burns you to the core,
Shattering your existence.

One by one, your memories are cleansed.
Every moment of ecstasy,
Every moment of remorse.
Cleansed from your own mind.

For a life so long-lived,
It takes but seconds to remove you.

Say goodbye to your life.
Wave away the sad faces you recognize,
While you still can.

Your soul is now our's.
Your heart is not your's to give away.
Soon, all you once knew will be nothing.
And nothing shall be everything.

Reviews

[Becca*Type2012]

You must feel passionate about your subject because I sense a real feel of passion in your work. It flowed extremely well. Awesome poem! Keep writing I want to see more from you.