Wretch.
I drank your poison and got stronger,
faced death but missed the light
and now it's my time to rise.
For your one-winged-wonder will die
as Argham comes, Ki'ilian shall kill
the women of light, here at the dawn of day
I am cruel enough to be hated forever.
I fought my battles, won the war
where faith got crucified, hope got buried.
No revenge, no. This is worse.
Watch my wrists burn as I slowly touch your neck
surrender, for you know I've paid my dues
and now the time has arrived;
I will take what's mine.
Reacties op dit gedicht
| Just*mi: | Dinsdag, juli 19, 2011 12:16 |
| Oh''kay... | |
| heetgebakertje: | Dinsdag, juli 19, 2011 09:32 |
| hot! and dangerous | |
| Paul de Bruijn: | Dinsdag, juli 19, 2011 07:14 |
Krijg het gevoel van een implosie die geuit wordt in een krachtige explosie van taalkundig vakwerk.. Hulde! |
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Over dit gedicht
| Auteur: Erwin. |  
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| Gecontroleerd door: | ||
| Gepubliceerd op: 19 juli 2011 | ||
| Thema's: | ||