AzraelA Poem by The Raven KingThe Lord's work is never doneIt's lonely and empty inside the train Heavy-steady, I hold on as I step inside. The scenery smears in a rush. I see through my window, a box of violent green.
the book, a portable black hole. His eyes reflect violent green. Little silver-gray mirrors.
hangs heavy in his hand. Windows become mirrors as we enter a tunnel.
he said smiling, pointing at my swollen belly. "Not too" I say as he sits. The book now a tunnel, a rectangular hole through his torso.
Their image is snatched away, but I see them still hollowing it out, boring a hole through it's torso. He sits the light absorbing book down.
sad and determined. I feel a shiver but it melts away like smoke in the wind. My calm, trusting manner is not my own. I feel manipulated.
My baby kicks hard, I feel nauseous. My will is not my own. I am manipulated. You will not remember me or what happens.
The man leans forward. I cannot move. He gives my stomach a kiss. Nothing happens. He smiles. I stare. Horrified!
He speaks in a strange tongue. I hear the book reply! He smiles. I stare. Horrified! My mind falls prey to dark, rhythmic sleep
three ravens fly away. Did I see them before? Windows become mirrors as I enter a tunnel. I rub my motionless swollen belly
empty, empty. © 2008 The Raven KingFeatured Review
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3 Reviews Added on February 12, 2008 AuthorThe Raven KingAZAbout"Call me vain and proud, the greatest sinner ever to walk God's earth, but Satan's boy I could never be. I haven't the humility." -Urbain Grandier, The Devils of Loudon I am older than I look by a.. more..Writing
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