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Did I last night stiffen cold?
My hands all waxy, thin and old
Have I dreamt my years away
Til body loses soul?

Have I found no heart to save,
But polished stone of granite grave?
In slumber, did my youth decay
And leave me no control?

I fear my face is sunken deep
A hollow where my dry eyes weep
Their heavy sobs of sorrow
Crawling down my bony cheek

I feel my muscles move no more
With glassy eyes, my outlook poor
I once had strength to borrow
Now I won't stop growing weak
©2006-2009 ~bloodybunny
:iconbloodybunny:

Author's Comments

put it in horror and macabre because someone told me it was very "Poe"

Comments


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:iconohwaitsmile:
this is amazing.
i enjoyed reading it very much.
im favoriting.
:icondevilsfool:
this is great writing :+fav:
:iconbloodybunny:
thanks a ton, you would like some of my other stuff if you like this. Maybe check out "With Your Stomach Torn" or "Dies ist Ihr Grab"

I'll check out some of your work tonight for being the first to comment ^-^

--
The only thing that can save the world is the reclaiming of the awareness of the world. That's what poetry does.
-Allen Ginsberg
:iconbloodybunny:
thank you so much. I'm always glad to get appreciation in the poetry field. It's so hard to get people to just sit and read sometimes.

--
The only thing that can save the world is the reclaiming of the awareness of the world. That's what poetry does.
-Allen Ginsberg
:iconarcticsix:
I really love your use of rhythm in this poem. The imagery is great, too. You're very talented.

--
Wgah'nagl.

Cthulhu ftaghn.
:iconbloodybunny:
Thank you. I like this one too.

--
The only thing that can save the world is the reclaiming of the awareness of the world. That's what poetry does.
-Allen Ginsberg

Details

September 20, 2006
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