HungryA Poem by (☞゚ヮ゚)☞Emmett☜(゚ヮ゚☜)It can not be seen, and it can not be heard, but it can be felt, and it can be burned.As the curling clouds of winter come rolling in my brain,
Whooping cries escape my mouth and make my voice go strain. Reddish lips smack and lick from the aromas all around, Out in town, I look up and down and hear a hungry growl. It is me, shivered down, the famish wearing me thin. So dark, I can not see, but there is light within. I promise naught but worthless words that only seek a truth, So I mooch, then I shoot my current signs of naked youth. Cackle now and sizzle down, the touch so hot in ashy hands. Lead in them, a happy end, for once what I planned. Flourish now in their defeat that the Man is down and dead. I asked a question and it's not my intention to think of what they said. Scarlet snow don't atone and expands into the sea. My reign of ignorance can not be beat, at least from what I've seen. I'm still not full so I cry and pull, and the hair falls from atop my head. The thick bright snow, cold and alone, is then dripped on by it's red. The next show I lured before make my saliva burn like acid. I raise the hatchet, mad in action, and chopped with feelings placid. They burned so fast, they did not last, but I got a good quick whiff. The taste was bitter as I savored the flavor in each last sniff. © 2011 (☞゚ヮ゚)☞Emmett☜(゚ヮ゚☜)Author's Note
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Added on November 1, 2011Last Updated on December 1, 2011 Tags: apocalypse, poem, depression Author(☞゚ヮ゚)☞Emmett☜(゚ヮ゚☜)Does it matter?, FLAboutキタ━━━(゜∀゜)━━━!!!!! "Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words." .. more..Writing
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