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Winter’s Crooked Grin

One Day

Perhaps one day we’ll look back and all think:

“What was it all for?” For it was not for

Love, and certainly not for peace, when clink

Went the glass to those gone in a blink.


Perhaps one day we’ll look back and wonder:

“How could it end this way?” as the sky

Itself shook from the ground torn asunder,

And the sailors cried while they went under.


Perhaps one day we’ll look back and find out

What fools we were to dare dream of glory.

Half of us were gone in but the first bout,

The other gone without even a shout.



Fairytale

Roaring seas will sink those who sail;

Hell’s doors open for those who fail,

And every second there’s one who wails;

No,

This world is not a fairytale.



Poem of the Villain

You’ve seen me before, some might even know my name.

Either way, your efforts will only end in pain.

Such is the nature of things--we all die in vain,

As we walk along the road to eternal fame.



Poem of the Forgotten

Perhaps we’ll laugh and cry and think it’s forever;

Perhaps we’ll see the end of this world together.

Some will be remembered until the end of time,

Others will be forgotten ere the sun’s next climb.



Poem of the People

We sail down the river of oaths broken and not,

But hark! There in the far distance lies a faint dot!

Perhaps, could it be the thing that we have long sought?

Alas, it is death, the very being we had fought.



Poem of the Hopeless

I’m walking a road that has already been paved,

The road where countless others had hoped to be saved.

Walking this road, I’ve lost so much along the way;

Perhaps it’s just another price I’ll have to pay.



Poem of the Victim

I looked and gazed upon one that has gone through hell,

And in that moment I saw the bully’s stairwell,

Felt against my skin the rigid bars of the cell,

Lived the futile life of a forgotten rebel,


Until I reached the end and heard the knell,

Looked at the hands reaching out and saying farewell,


And then I was back, and I stuttered, tried to spell,

I tried, as I already saw how far you fell,

And in that moment this only could I tell:

Know that the best revenge is simply living well.



Poem of the Forsaken

I watched as you turned and left without looking back,

Watched as you forgot me, and left me full of cracks,

Watched as I was left alone in the darkness black,

Watched as you forgot the promise we once had.



Poem of the Saint

I am soaring beyond the clouds in the night sky,

Listening to the wind and clouds peacefully sigh,

And above me a light glows as I soar so high,

What a shame, that you only see this once you die.




Poem of the Author

Look upon my work, all ye carefree souls of sin;

Here you see my sorrows and the bit that I win.

Here you see one that tries to say what can’t be said,

And there you see one that tried too late as he bled.



Poem of the Reader

The pages flip endlessly deep into the night,

And are flipping again before the dawn’s first light.

One that sought solace in the story I once knew,

One that once sought solace in the story. I’m you.



Impulse

Don’t be impulsive they say; think before you act.

But we don’t think with our heart and feel with our brain

Or dream with our bodies. The soul is what we lack.

And when all is for naught, and hope went down the drain,

It is impulse that will save us, tomorrow or today.




Believe

They ask, what do you believe in? Well, I,

Believe in fire, I believe in flame;

I believe in the knight that will defy

And brave the vast world to save the dame.


They ask, what do you believe in? Well, we,

Believed in love, we believed in care;

We believed in me that never belie-

-Ved in the world that had too much to bear.


They ask, what do you believe in? Well, one,

Believes in darkness, one believes in shade,

One believes in the lone rebel that won

And overthrew the rules that the people made.


They ask, what do you believe in? Well, they

Should go and mind their own business, okay?




Sonnet 4: Ephemeral

How often have I wished for songs to last,

And for things to remain constant, the same?

How often for life to remain steadfast,

To be more than just a flickering flame?


Nothing lasts; above all else this is true.

Such is simply our life’s mortality;

We’ll all be brought to the coffin to rue,

And one day to adorn with our beauty.


But he roared for those that wouldn’t come back,

And cried for those that lost all that they had.

But he went mad for those that he’d now lack,

And raged at what took all that made him glad.


So to you, that for life turned so feral,

Just know that all things are ephemeral.


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