Resentment Is My Decor.

Resentment Is My Decor.

A Poem by Larul

Alone in this room I stand, holding the evidence in my hand. 
Take this moment as a whole, the day I lost my soul. 
Emptiness in rage, I've let loose outside my cage. 
A thousand whispers became a scream. 

On this dampened floor I pace, glancing down at that dead face. 
'Look at it' I say, 'look at the face that made me pay.'
This lovers chest split in two, who could ever had a clue. 
His body torn apart, a single knife stuck in his heart. 

Yes on top I sit, his intestines I shall knit.
Weave bloodied ropes, for these very damaged hopes. 
Warm is to cold, my wrongs doings said bold. 
A crack in an obvious mind. 

My ambition screams for more, how I seem to adore this morbid decor. 
She looked at me, it seems he gave her his key. 
A smile adorned my cheek, another soul I was to reap. 
As I woman, I was scorned.

Her hair so crusted with the essence of dried blood, it dried up so, just like mud. 
Her existence beneath my feet, the dirt I walk on, imagery very discrete. 
She took my man, I took her life; her life lived with vain strife. 
So live by the golden rule I say, another night- another day. 

© 2013 Larul


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"This lovers chest split in two, who could ever had a clue.

His body torn apart, a single knife stuck in his heart.




Yes on top I sit, his intestines I shall knit.

Weave bloodied ropes, for these very damaged hopes.

Warm is to cold, my wrongs doings said bold.

A crack in an obvious mind. "

An amazing powerful write full of sentiments penned with precision...:)

Posted 11 Years Ago


Larul

11 Years Ago

Thank you for the quick review, I liked reading it.~

-Larul.
Sami Khalil

11 Years Ago

You are welcome...Any time...:)

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Added on May 6, 2013
Last Updated on May 6, 2013

Author

Larul
Larul

New York, NY



About
Is an intellect openly open to others? Well, only if they wish to get their points across. If you ask me, being an open intellect is quite strange. I'm a supposed intellect. One of the very many human.. more..

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