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Literature Text
Whiteness surrounds me,
White flurries as far as the eye can see.
My body continues to run,
As I try to stop what I have done.
Murder.
My breath lingers in the air,
With so little time to spare.
My body is so numb from the cold,
The wind's bite strong and bold.
Murder.
It tears at my body with its ice cold fingers,
Its touch continues to stay and linger.
My breath is coming short now,
As my finale comes to a bow.
Murder.
I can't stop now I must go on,
Try to to fix what I did wrong.
The life that must be saved,
The one that I have dearly craved.
Murder.
The person I love is where they are at,
That I knew for a fact.
Someone watches me as I make it to the end,
Turning around the next bend.
Murder.
All feeling is gone,
My body and soul must go on.
But it was too late for them when I came,
For my love's blood was washed with the crying rain.
White flurries as far as the eye can see.
My body continues to run,
As I try to stop what I have done.
Murder.
My breath lingers in the air,
With so little time to spare.
My body is so numb from the cold,
The wind's bite strong and bold.
Murder.
It tears at my body with its ice cold fingers,
Its touch continues to stay and linger.
My breath is coming short now,
As my finale comes to a bow.
Murder.
I can't stop now I must go on,
Try to to fix what I did wrong.
The life that must be saved,
The one that I have dearly craved.
Murder.
The person I love is where they are at,
That I knew for a fact.
Someone watches me as I make it to the end,
Turning around the next bend.
Murder.
All feeling is gone,
My body and soul must go on.
But it was too late for them when I came,
For my love's blood was washed with the crying rain.
It tis sad really. They try to stop the murder of their love but were too late in the end. 
*Yes, for the people reading this I'm very screwed up in my mind and I love it.*
*No taking without permission, for anything whatsoever.*
*Yes, for the people reading this I'm very screwed up in my mind and I love it.*
*No taking without permission, for anything whatsoever.*
© 2010 - 2024 DemonicHollow
Comments19
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This is a very good poem. If I wasn't such a failure in what comes to painting what my head sees, I'd paint this PERFECT picture to go with this text. I'll keep it in my head anyways
No problem about being "screwed up in your mind". That's where art comes from
No problem about being "screwed up in your mind". That's where art comes from