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Blanch desolate face rotting from reality,
pessimistic eyes,
hinder the disguise.
The vacant mind.

Transgress demise.

Despondent affection,
stripped-less anima,
vehemently demoralized.

The misery,
a parable affection.
©2003-2010 ~undesireable
:iconundesireable:

Author's Comments

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:iconsoulharvester:
nice details... nice poem...

nice job... :p

--
member of-
:iconlivingpoetsociety: :icondark-writing:
:iconfall-children: :iconbloodrosesociety:
:icontheskulls: :iconCradleOfFilth:

my other identity:
:iconsacredinsanity:
:iconnihilim:
Haha. dA fucked with your shit.

AND YEAH I MEAN THAT IN EVERY SENSE OF THE SIXTH.
YEAH.

--
-i: a.i,=n_
:iconundesireable:
what the fuck? I'm bored, so I'm going to pretend like I care about what you said. enlighten me.

--
_
:iconnihilim:
Nothing, really. dA messed up your description. There's a space in it. That's all.

--
-i: a.i,=n_
:iconfallenaskari:
or was it a typo? or perhaps intentional?

i dunno, nor do i really care, its a good poem anyway

first and last bits are the best i think

--
i dont want to bleed anymore...
:iconkagrmom:
Hard hitting as always.......you must dig very deep for the words to describe the mask that we all must wear.

Great job!..........:hug:

--
mari



A man's home is his castle.....let him clean it........anon

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October 30, 2003
381 bytes
1.8 KB
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