Her Veil and Her Shroud

 

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Curtained in transparent black lace,

Disguising misery in clothing of mourning,

Black diamond earrings hangs from her ears,

Onyx gems are woven into the fabric of her soul,

White doves transform to black ravens,

Ugly photographs of public denial of one of the greatest end time messengers are framed,

Reflections of many broken shadows on moving walls dance,

Reminders are scattered amongst graveyard tombs,

Revenge does not soothe the ravaged soul,

Burial does not exist between the two realms she now exists in,

A coffin coveted to bury ancient relics in the ground,

The oil lamp swings between her over worked fingers,

A pendulum of golden crowns and light from God,

Wide berth, public denials and verbal floggings,

Woven with extreme loneliness,

This is her existence and heavy cross to bare,

While he loses victory of living the truth,

Releasing anger and embracing pain and grief,

Covering herself in silence without any solace,

She now wears her veil and her shroud.

Author's Note

looking for pic

Reviews

[disconnectedspirit]

now i am the biggest w***e LOL too funny...

[disconnectedspirit]

the women i called w****s in here was HIM under disguise...LOL not real women...lol

[disconnectedspirit]

major psycho on the lose LOL now I am the biggest w***e because he never loved her?

[disconnectedspirit]

thanks...it is a way of me coping with things

[Winslow Des Totes]

Excellent imagery!! And powerful diction too! Great write! :D