The Burning Of The Books
An ancient library in my mind,
Tomes of horror locked inside.
Stories to make you shiver and screech,
Sucking on my fear like an overgrown leech.
Cobwebs covering the 'happy books';
"When Spot Chased Rabbits" and "The Joyful Look".
The well worn spines of sadness and fear;
"Pain" and "Torture" and "Death is Near".
Burn this library, this coven of hate.
Strike a match and spite my fate.
Get rid of the evils within my mind.
Let The Innocent One free from inside.
Let him claim who he once was,
From this empty shell I now adorn.
Clear the fear etched atop my brow
Or bury me, as I am now.
Comments on this poem/writing:
|Yanny (18.104.22.168) -- Tuesday, April 12 2005, 09:08 pm|
Great as always XD Hard to comment ;'] But it rules
|Holly (22.214.171.124) -- Tuesday, April 12 2005, 09:28 pm|
This one has such a good concept to it, your mind, or your whole persona even, being like a library. I'm so jealous of your ability to write.
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