© Margo
© Margo
© Margo
ive got societies signature on my arms.
ive got lifes blood on my wrists
ive got hells burns on my finger tips
somehow.. someway..alll this pain makes me forget who i am and what i feel
ive got my friends knife in my back
ive got politics footprints on my face
ive got barbaric bruses on my legs.
somehow..someway.. all this pain. takes me in and comforts me.
when no one else will.
my stomach is full of pressure's pills.
they wre all i had that night
that cold miserable nihgt when i took my first breath
what makes it worse is that they are there all the time.
they make me feel real
but yet.. what is real????
they cannot answer that
so how can they help?
i rant and rave about they..
but no one, not ever, knows who they are.
to me they are knives, scisors, and fire.
to you??? who knows..
they are something diffrent to everyone
and effect everyone in a diffrent way
MIDDLE
i am stuck in the middle
between nothing and everything
not quite this, not quite that
no free. yet not trapped
im not living.. but im not dead
i could veer one way...
but i would and will always be stuck
i feel the cold metal against my arm
conforting yet fearfull of what is to come
my hand is shaking at my thoughts
i cut and cut and cut
i plunge the knife into my arm in one last attemo
but alas... the knife is too dull..
i throw the knife to the ground and look at my arm. at what could've been
i then feel a new power
i feel new excitement flow through my veins as i look at my arm
i fight with myself and plede with myself
NO!! not again. you promised. but i give into the temptation and begin
piercing my skin with my nails
this time it goes faster, nire satisfying and more willing than the knife.
i fell a power over myself and..
a sense of satisfaction as i watch blood poor from my wrist
i begin to laugh furiously and fall to the ground
i am feeling woosey. it isn't the lack of blood but most likely the bottle
of pills i took and hour earlier
i crawl up to my bed and lay there with millions of
thoughts going through my head.
slowly the words break apart. into sepreate letters.
slowly but sureley they all join together to form one word.
over and over again.
as i watch this word unfold before me. i feel myself slipping
in and out of consciouness.
i know the meaning of the word, but only later do i actually see the word
i am asleep, in a deep one
i am fallig down... down... down to what?? im not sure.
but out of the darkness comes a blood red D! with an E! and A!
following it close behind
soon comes a T! and H!
the word seems familar as it passes.
i grab a hold of the h as it wizzes by.
death has saved me and given me a lift to the botton, the end of my journey
i climb of the H! and as i walk away it gives me someting..
it hands me a knife..
i awake in time to get ready for school.
when i put my hand down to brace myself i feel a stabbing feeling
i look down and under my blood coated hand i find a knife...
The Carnival of the Damned
From the darkness comes a sound,
a pipe organ playing or merry go round.
A sound both fantastic, foreboding as well,
no one can resist its siren-like spell.
Wailing like spectres, but singing like gold,
a melody new but unnaturally old.
Beckoning to all the children nearbye,
who have no way of knowing they are destined to die.
For their small simple minds are hooked on the bait,
The gold-plated evil that seals their dark fate.
The unnamable truth cloaked by cheerful facade,
a symbol of friendship, a token unflawed.
The carnival owner greets with a smile,
a shake of the hand and a line to beguile.
For you do not need money to pay the dark toll,
The ticket of entrance, is your precious soul.
No one is ever aware of his goals,
This master of chaos, this drinker of souls.
In league with the elder, darkness supreme,
he feeds it the innocence to continue his dream.
When he was young his family was killed,
his mind filled with anger, his heart became chilled.
He took his own life with the rage left inside,
hanging himself from a tent, bright and wide.
The elder felt pity, but had no remorse,
to bind this new soul to his eternal force.
He offered the boy a chance at revenge,
the power to slaughter, to darkly avenge.
With great satisfaction, the boy killed the prey,
the spraying of crimson had marked that dark day.
He shoved them the lion's caged den,
the boy stood back waiting for the fun to begin.
The four hapless victims were chewed into mesh,
the lion's huge maw snapped through tendon and flesh.
Under the influence of power and rage,
His great satisfaction had set the damned stage.
Spreading his suffering for hundreds of years,
an object of terror, a symbol of fears.
This beautiful carnival conceals a dark cast,
of demons and spectres from the world's ancient past.
Bathed in the bloodshed, knee deep in the gore,
they hide in the shadows, waiting for more.
In this dark carnival dreams can come true,
after a task that the wisher must do.
Although they are granted their greatest desire,
their souls are consumed by the elder's dark ire.
Their souls are consumed, but their bodies live on
to continue the work as the carnival's spawn.
Or used as livestock for the owner's foul thirst,
toasting their deaths at the dinner accursed.
Jesters and clowns are mixed in with the crowd,
wearing their clothing incredibly loud.
Bright fluffy hair, humor filled eyes
and long slender fangs to cut short death cries.
The freaks in the cages, once human as well,
now grotesque mockeries as if straight from hell.
The pipe-organ player, unseen by the eye,
a fiend made of shadow, incorperal as sky.
His ethereal hands play a damned melody,
A harmonious tune filled with pernicious glee.
Cadavers and spirits dance to the tune,
under the view of the cursed sanguine moon.
Dancing the darkness, with death in their veins,
blood icy cold and the marks of their pains.
After soul's midnight it will all disappear,
until tomorrow at least, you have nothing to fear...
..all words, poems, and voices belong to the writer/speaker...all rights reserved...
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