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The Dead Poet

To Woe

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Lost Treasures

'To Woe'

For my friend of Sorrow by; The Dead Poet

My beautiful friend, oh sorrow. I know you will
even be there for me tomorrow. I've seen the pale stare,
from the dead rider with no soul, no whisper of care.
To lust for the Mistress of lost intent, and rape the
values from your vary heart to only then later repent.

Save yourself;
The wicked children, who masquerade as men
sailing under a banner of sin, a game and nothing more to them.
Forgive and forget, the worse we get. Bartering flesh and soul
just to get your next fix.

To woe, this bitter taste I know. To admit defeat,
every damn mistake I've managed to repeat. As sorrow
will be there shadowing my feet. The mocking joke
that this has become my life, the same hidden gem in disguise.

Save yourself;
“I slip into complacency in the way I allow others to treat me.
Constantly in a struggle for self credibility. A vicious cycle that
only perpetuates the loathing and torment. To slip inside the blue waterfall,
and gaze on perfection. Dreaming of distant worlds, all the while
failing your own conscious thought.”

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Haha, a Dead Poet specail.
So a little about "The Dead Poet" it was a pen name I used way way back in the day. I was self conscious about my morbid and dark poetry, was often bluntly told that many times. So I started signing my poetry and writtings with "The Dead Poet" it was sort of a saftey blanket I suppose. Everytime I create a truly disturbing masterpiece I often want to tag it with that name, I've learned however to accept the creepy along with the light hearted that my mind creates. Maybe one day The Dead Poet will have his book published too. ;)

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last updated 31 December 2012 - 6:55am
©14 March 2012 - 10:04pm — MatthewWayne