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Innocent Soul

You poor innocent soul. 

What has been done to you we'll never know. 

You've been beaten, bruised, shackled, and chained 

Resulting in blackness to run through your veins. 

And here we stand to make you whole 

To fix your poor innocent soul. 

 

...Blackened blood 

And flash floods. 

Screams of horror 

With cries for slaughter... 

 

You poor innocent soul. 

You now have no self-control. 

Rampaging through cities and streets 

Allowing your humanity to rapidly decrease. 

Reality is what your fantasy stole. 

We're unable to fix your poor innocent soul. 

 

...Unbearable pain 

Mixed with acid rain. 

Consuming vengeance, 

It seems endless... 

 

You poor innocent soul. 

Now you have no where to go. 

You've been torn and so you've killed 

The one's that made you slowly build. 

And now we'll watch as hate takes it's toll 

On your poor innocent soul. 

 

You didn't ask for any of this, 

Now you'll never find restful bliss. 

You'll forever be trapped in a black hole. 

You poor sweet innocent soul.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This is about someone (in my point of view it was a child) who had all these things happen to him that slowly turned him torward hate and anger. All these feelings became so strong they covered up his innocents and the people who made him this way just sat by and watched. The watchers turned the child into a hate machine and now no one wants him and in his blind rage he killed the watchers and many people. Though some feel sorry for him they don't want him, resulting in the child to lose himself and becoming lost forever.

 

The parts between the ... are all the things the child is doing and feeling.

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©22 June 2013 - 5:17pm — Vallantiel
22 June 2013 - 7:43pm — nightlight1220
nightlight1220's picture

very true to life and not

very true to life and not uncommon at all. thank you, this is a golden path to walk, to have an understanding of these people. god bless you. few pick themselves up by their bootstraps because they cannot get over the resentment of feeling like the world owes them, and in a way, it does. if they do find any bit of contentment or inner peace, it is in some institution usually, after all family and friends have given up...which we pay for, blindly and ignorantly.

...and he asked her, "do you write poetry? Because I feel as if I am the ink that flows from your quill."

"No", she replied, "but I have experienced it. "

 

23 June 2013 - 3:47pm — Vallantiel
Vallantiel's picture

Thank you :3

Thank you very much. Not many people understand what this poem is about.

I wrote this poem because it happens all the time to people: men, women, and children. Everyone. And sometimes people hurt others blindly and don't know it. This poem tells the part of the one who's hurt and how no one really cares to save them.