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Guilt

She sat in the coffin
In a ragged white dress

She sat in the coffin
Holding herself in pain

She sat in the coffin
Not seeing anything with
Dead
Chilling
Haunting  Blue eyes

Reach out to her
Try to touch her
Comfort her

And then you find
You Can’t

The darkness creeps around her coffin
And all you can touch
Is the blackness blocking your way

She starts to shake
And you see each tremor
Shake
Shake
Shake in her hysteria

The Dark creeps closer
And she stands in her black coffin

She holds her chest
As blood leaks through her dainty hands

It taints her white dress
And colors her raven hair

Then

She looks at You

with Those eyes and blank stare

“You did this,” She whispers.
And you wonder how you hear it

“It’s your fault, you did this,”

And before you even think to ask what

The Dark veil consumes her
And your blood stops in your veins

As you hear a blood-curdling scream
You’ll remember for all you life
Each and everyday…


He wakes from his nightmares then
Sweat and fear rushing through him
Making him sway

He didn’t understand it

She looked so familiar
And yet so Not

No he didn’t understand it until

He looked in the mirror
Her eyes looking back
And Finally he knew


She was it
Sins his heart refused to know

She was it
His unredeemable Guilt
Buried in the pits of his damnable soul
:iconartistic-writer:

Author's Comments

I blame rock. I blame the wicked, dangerous, deliciously awsome sounds of Rock!:headbang: Oh and I also blame my already dark twisted mind. Can't forget that. This way darker then most of my stuff.

I like this anyway. Comments are Welcome!!

Comments


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:iconmadmiko:
Hehhe! That was wickedly, deliciously dark. I loved the way you started out with the repetitive phrase "She sat in the coffin"--it really pulled me in.

--
"My kids don't think I'm older than dirt, but they do think mine were the first footprints in it." -Me
:iconartistic-writer:
Thank you Veeery Much!:D I'm glad you like that part. It was the first thing I came up with for this poem. So happy that worked out!

--
"My dreams are my life. Reality, though, is my inspiration for those dreams."- Anon.
SUPPORT THE WRITERS!! THEY'RE ARTISTS TOO!!!
[link] in case I forget my emotions at home.
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:iconmandyc:
lol, I love it when writers take things such innocence, guilt, pride or any human characteristic and bring to life. I love personfication, which this of course an example of. Neat and I enjoyed imensenly :)

--
I love Patrick Hall!
DAMN IT!!!!! I lost a penny

Details

June 19
1.9 KB

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