And so, Amy entered my life.
Flowers so black.
Flowers so cold.
Flowers so dead.
Her long white, silvery dress is rustling in the wind.
Her long black hair, caressing her body.
She carries a bloody sword of ice in one hand.
A bright red rose in the other.
Her face is perfectly symmetrical, A thing of beauty.
Her eyes are ice-cold walls of hate.
Her lips dark red.
Her smile warm.
She's walking on shoes made of glass.
Through the field.
The wind carries a faint smell of death with it.
A witness of yesterday.
For every foe that she killed she posed herself the same question;
How does it feel to die?
She stares them all in their eyes as the last glints of life fades away.
Stupid fools she mumbles.
Ignorant and egoistic.
Never bothered by the troubles of others.
Them she slayed.
Them she tortured.
Them she punished.
For every body she leaves behind.
She leaves a rose to warn The One.
She's still walking on her field.
Watching the flowers;
So dead.
So cold.
So black.
My army watches her.
The Auroran Empire in all its colors.
All the soldiers lined up.
All the tanks.
All the artillery.
All waiting for me,
The One.
The one to give orders.
I pick up my sword.
I take off my armor.
What armor can protect you against her anyway?
I stand naked.
With only my sword and my logical thinking to save me.
How can I win?
She has stopped.
She observes me.
Watches my twitching, combat ready muscles.
She unbuttons her white, silvery dress.
Like mercury it slides off her curvaceous body.
Rain trickling down her chin.
She puts her rose in her jet-black hair.
A faint smile flickers across her lips.
I walk down the hill.
Walking towards my doom.
We stand there, in front of each other.
Naked.
With our swords.
And she, with her rose.
And me, with my logical thinking.
Her eyes has changed.
A fire has appeared in them.
A fire with a blue flame.
Melting away the wall of ice.
I raise my sword.
So does she.
I prepare for the battle.
She screams and attacks with all her might.
Ah, the battle has begun.
Poetry by ForeignFragments
Read 941 times
Written on 2005-11-07 at 00:33
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Yesterday
She's walking on a field of flowers.Flowers so black.
Flowers so cold.
Flowers so dead.
Her long white, silvery dress is rustling in the wind.
Her long black hair, caressing her body.
She carries a bloody sword of ice in one hand.
A bright red rose in the other.
Her face is perfectly symmetrical, A thing of beauty.
Her eyes are ice-cold walls of hate.
Her lips dark red.
Her smile warm.
She's walking on shoes made of glass.
Through the field.
The wind carries a faint smell of death with it.
A witness of yesterday.
For every foe that she killed she posed herself the same question;
How does it feel to die?
She stares them all in their eyes as the last glints of life fades away.
Stupid fools she mumbles.
Ignorant and egoistic.
Never bothered by the troubles of others.
Them she slayed.
Them she tortured.
Them she punished.
For every body she leaves behind.
She leaves a rose to warn The One.
She's still walking on her field.
Watching the flowers;
So dead.
So cold.
So black.
My army watches her.
The Auroran Empire in all its colors.
All the soldiers lined up.
All the tanks.
All the artillery.
All waiting for me,
The One.
The one to give orders.
I pick up my sword.
I take off my armor.
What armor can protect you against her anyway?
I stand naked.
With only my sword and my logical thinking to save me.
How can I win?
She has stopped.
She observes me.
Watches my twitching, combat ready muscles.
She unbuttons her white, silvery dress.
Like mercury it slides off her curvaceous body.
Rain trickling down her chin.
She puts her rose in her jet-black hair.
A faint smile flickers across her lips.
I walk down the hill.
Walking towards my doom.
We stand there, in front of each other.
Naked.
With our swords.
And she, with her rose.
And me, with my logical thinking.
Her eyes has changed.
A fire has appeared in them.
A fire with a blue flame.
Melting away the wall of ice.
I raise my sword.
So does she.
I prepare for the battle.
She screams and attacks with all her might.
Ah, the battle has begun.
Poetry by ForeignFragments
Read 941 times
Written on 2005-11-07 at 00:33
Tags Vision
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text|
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Zoya Zaidi |
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 by ForeignFragmen ts Latest textsYesterdayMy protector. The Wind The battle of the Mind Vision of Malmö |
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