digibutter.nerr

[Popple]

Everyone must be, everyone will be.

There, past the man stood a row of young boys.

Dark hair, eyes as white as nothingness. All they see is death.

The man beckoned me towards him, his boney extrermitiy pointd towards myself.

My gaze cast upon him, a glint in my blood red iris.

That flash, hope?

I make an advanced towards the light, put he simply takes it away.

He skoffs at my attempt, does he find my will humorous?

I make another attempt at the light. Success.

The knife plunges into his heart, I faltered from my savage assault.

Covered in blood, the taste.

Exqiste.

This is Freedom.

Everybody will be, I will not be.



This is me trying to be dark and deep, and failing.
I need to stop having these random writing urges at two in the morning.

[Frozenwinters]

So what's the story behind this? I'm not good with poems, so you have to explain.

[Popple]

In my mind it deals with several subjects.

I actually think poetry, or whatever this is defined as, is something that the individual reader should pull their own meaning from. I think you get more out of it that way.