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Literature
The Hurt (Sonnet)
The Hurt By J.C. Solis The Hurt that comes from actions made Of consequences that were paid The Hurt of heart and soul abound The Hurt that goes around and round The Hurt that comes from deep remorse For having followed down this course The Hurt and much more still remains This Hurt that fills the heart with pain This is the feeling that We bare For we have sinned without a care And this is our reward Life gave Our Remorse, for we misbehaved And so this pain is what We know The Hurt that just will not let go…
Literature
Mad Priest
We are that of shattered glass, all broken and fallen to dust. For the more we live, the more our time is consumed. All destined for the tomb. To look at the empty lights that flicker in the night, and none are bright only pins of atomic might. We stand trying to remain strong, but that dark void most certainly will come to consume all. Shattered by who and what was our true call? Questions of lingering souls, whose spirits must now rest within those twilight halls. Lost, yet always found, dead yet living alone, empty of body yet full of mind. Day and night those things now lost, faith turned to blight so rottened, so dead. Crimson and azure, the blood red fate of our eclipsed Luna this hollowed arc. We are shattered! Fallen into the most damaged of all sins! Bent and broken, cursed, and trampled. Imprisoned by our own dreadful design, this our game, this our fortress of the cracked wheel! We will never escape, for it will never end. For strength, for knowledge, for some enjoyment? Do
Literature
The Dove
Sweet soft the beast did moan In the forest as the fires burned Through the smoke a shape was cast. A creature of darkness and deep, Its form a wondrous thing. It was a creature of beauty and grace, A thing of power and might. It stirred in the darkness of a fading light, The sweet soft sound filled the night. Embracing shadows, its essence flawless, A creature born of darkness, taking flight. In the depths of the blackness, it found solace, A refuge from a world bathed and consumed by light. The city had now faded like a hazy dreamed that passed Through the smoldering smoke was revealed a moist cold path. Let it journey to the ocean where the white dove flies On wings of purest white, It's an image so precious and bright. The dove graceful as it glides, On swells of gentle wind, It soars among the clouds, A sight that's near divine. The sun's rays glisten off its wings, Giving it a heavenly glow, The dove soars high and free, Its beauty for all of us to see. Let my soul
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*loud, I told you there was an error. -_- 