Whispers

by Crimson War Goddess

Posted to Poetry on 2003-04-11 10:49:00

A voice too soft to deteriate.
A mother weeps for those unborn children,
that were taken from her womb
and placed in a coffin of regret.
The ghouls of the after spell
climb towards the light,
always falling back
into the hole from which they came.
A gentle echo
from the mourns of the vampires,
shedding tears of nothingness.
Imagine.
A masterbating filth,
clinging to your side.
In here I dwell,
waiting for the music to come.