The Bleeding Rose by ObsidianRavenShadow, literature
Literature
The Bleeding Rose
The blood red rose
The color of her heart
Is found carved into her skin
Thus becoming a part
A part of her body
A part of her soul
A part of her mind
The vines have taken hold
The infinity of the vines reveal
Her entanglement which chains her
to this earthly field
It chains her body
Chains her soul
Chains her mind
Chains her to this mold
This mold of humanity
This frame within
She is trapped inside
Her earthly sins
The bleeding rose
Speaks her pain
It captures the essence
Of life on this plane
Life is beauty
But life is pain
You try to run
As you go insane
The thorns they scrape
And rip and tear
Her body and mind scarred
Forever by
You've gone away, forever ruined.
I saw your life through broken mirrors--
The occasional crystal clear piece lies still,
But all the rest is shattered glass.
Why didn't you let me read your past?
Why did you destroy your future?
You let your inner demons win
When they tied a noose for you.
You let your head slip through the rope;
Your neck was burned and snapped.
And with that, all hopes and dreams,
Purpose, happiness, life itself,
Everything was destroyed.
I, your puppet, was destroyed as well;
All my strings were cut
With every slash at your veins--
One too many and I am nothing
But a pile of wood to burn.
Make yourself a fire, pleas
The darkness clings to me.
It's moist touch on my skin
chills me to the bone,
Lets thoughts of the reaper in.
Still I smile thinly,
For I am going home.
No deathly moans
Or sickness.
They all left me long ago.
Like my family
And my 'friends'
Who I now seek for revenge.
The wind tugs at me pleadingly
Begging me to turn around,
Trying to pull me from
the path of damnation I have found.
The world ravages me once more.
But I laugh at it in scorn,
It's tried it's hardest to ruin me
From the day that I was born.
I cannot be swayed.
I have debts that remain unpaid,
And swan songs left unplayed.
Fortunes I never made.
Words I never had the sens
Pencil Man was something special,
He dreamed to be a hero.
To wear a cape
And "write all wrongs"
Would be his alter ego.
"Erasing evil"
And "drawing swords"
With man and beast alike.
Those who called him 'yellow bellied'
Would see that he could fight!
But Pencil Man forgot one thing,
His one and only weakness,
Miss Sharpener,
She had quite the look,
She always left him speechless.
A night of passion soon ensued
He gave her all he could.
As morning came
All that remained
Was just some broken wood.
Wish Upon A Scar
Shades of words can strengthen...walls
But embodiments of lies can flaw the very same...cause
-
A droplet of water lasted me a thousand ages
For I have traveled inside my mind
I documented a thousand faces
That ended up turning blind eyes
The lifeblood of faith kept urging me to wait
While I became a statue deprived of light and the life I once called mine
Numb sounds flow / Passions let go
Clinging onto footprints / A coward's instinct
Uncensored immunity is a curse
For tragedy teaches weakness
Nothing will be of any worth
As love and fear will be without consequences
Once upon a song / You were a flower
Your petals be
Place of tearful silence. World of misty gray.
A mouth sewn shut with self-doubt. The unheard screaming.
It's song remains unsung. There is no one to hear it.
The wounds it bears can never heal. Time cannot undo this.
A place long lost, forgotten. Somewhere between the glittering lights and dusty shadows.
Corner of the human heart also forgotten. Happy memories collecting rust and dust.
Spun from a glass thread of glittering lies.
With eyes wide shut and a heart full of secret rose colored truths.
Too afraid to see them for the real dirty truths.
Walking in a mindless rut. Feeling rotten to the core.
Waiting for the day w
I am so sorry for what I do to you.
I just can't help some of what I do.
I can tell in your eyes, you're in pain.
In your shoes, I would be the same.
I wish I could show, how much you mean to me.
When you look at me, I wonder what you see.
I want to say it's over; do it no more.
In my head I'm fighting a terrible war.
I promise I'm trying as hard as I can.
Please believe me. I promise I am.
You still accept me; hold me tight.
It will be tough, but I will win the fight.
I hope you know how much I really care.
I can't believe that you're still there.
My eyes are always open. From the rise of dawn to the moon's reign in the night and even in my dreams, I see.
My sight shifts, swirls of clarity come and go. Sometimes it's all tinged blue around the edges like I'm underwater and I can stay down for hours without having to breathe. It can be surreal, seeing that way. A waking dream that captures my vision, so entrancing I can't look away.
Sometimes it flashes; a glint of a knife, a smile, a scream. Bits and shards of pictures- puzzle pieces giving them selves to me but some mysteries are better left unsolved.
It's a burden and a safe guard with an ocean-tide mood ruled by something not a
I smudge my eyes across the waters
So I can reflect the sky's desires
Even when the clouds express oppression
I will still catch heaven's raindrops of desperation
-
Just remember that I have left none behind
But I may come and go- within the universal tides
I have no specific place to call home
I am not crowded, nor am I alone
For I will forever flow
Within light, and within shadow
My warmth will still cascade from the sun
Surrounding you when you're feeling flawed
I have left my scent on the wind / To help you remember that I still exist
My embrace is in the Earth / My love for you will always be preserved
My presence will still radiat
Grin
I convey these words with an empty heart
I have no talent, nothing that could be called art
But Matthew, he was a man with an affinity for the brush
And a saccharine grin that could make any maiden blush
I was maddeningly jealous of that talent, but mostly his smile
He said it was just his normal expression, I knew he was plotting something vile
Now Matthew grins at me, while I paint him rotting next to me in Hell
As we drown in a sea of blood my self-portrait grins back and wishes him well
What do I have to say? I’m a monster, and I don’t feel well
Poor old Matthew’s grinning skull is sitting in front of my easel