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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: "Pregnant With Madness"dots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: ShadowParadox
    Elite Ratio:    2.65 - 23/66/34
    Words: 354
    Class/Type: Poetry/Dark
    Total Views: 918
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 2473



    Description:
       An old piece when I was in deep darkness. I will try not to dig up too much of my dark past. Hope you enjoyed otherwise.


    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dots"Pregnant With Madness"dots
    -------------------------------------------


    :

    The wounds are bigger now

    Blood turning into ink

    Dripping onto a blank page

    I sit crying

    :

    Darkness stitches herself to me

    Her sickness contagious

    Blinding me from the light

    And yet I see a glimmer . . .

    :

    Demons climb into my hair

    Clawing at my clavicles

    Snatching every bit of sanity

    Tearing me apart

    :

    They stole my pens

    Ripped my notebooks

    Screamed and cursed at me

    Told me I was hopeless

    :

    But somehow I am able to laugh

    Though I write these words

    With my ink blood

    Dripping from its wounds

    :

    Staggering in pain

    Yet satisfied, complete

    My soul; untouched

    Unbroken, but hurting still

    :

    The remains of my mind

    Forming into poisonous butterflies

    Flying off into a psychedelic world

    . . . the one I created

    :

    Unsettled; though peaceful

    This thing moves in me . . .

    :

    Impregnated by Anger

    Pregnant with madness

    Shall I abort this abomination?

    Or let it live?

    :

    Shall I conceive to deceive?

    How . . . how can I birth a monster

    Who is the root of insanity?

    :

    But I did birth Madness

    Didn’t I . . .?

    :

    Or maybe I had a miscarriage

    And now here lies Madness

    Dead in between the lines

    Of this poem

    :

    Can you guess?

    But wait . . .

    Maybe you already know

    :

    Maybe you can even hear

    My ink blood dripping its lullaby

    On the edge of your mind

    Maybe you are the one who is mad and not I

    :

    Maybe . . .

    :

    Although Madness could be alive now

    Her essence

    Flowing thru my veins

    Writing this poem

    For you

    :




    Submitted on 2015-03-11 17:26:06     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    ||| Comments |||
      The madness without*
    | Posted on 2015-07-14 00:00:00 | by Damien Vladimir | [ Reply to This ]
      Kigdom of thy hollow souls..you are welcomed here..both you and the ad Ness without. Come from within.
    | Posted on 2015-07-14 00:00:00 | by Damien Vladimir | [ Reply to This ]
      no mistakes
    | Posted on 2015-04-15 00:00:00 | by monad | [ Reply to This ]
      I think to have a flow or period where writing is all you can do and it takes over your thoughts is a kind of madness, and perhaps writing is a cure. Oh, I long to be mad as I once was, when each indelible emotion dripped in ink--or cyber ink anyway--and there was relief until the next point of madness; then the pauses between is where the madness seemed.
    ~jan
    | Posted on 2015-03-12 00:00:00 | by jaycee | [ Reply to This ]
      Quite personally I'm mad that I'm mad……..I wanna be good so bad!!!
    | Posted on 2015-03-11 00:00:00 | by monad | [ Reply to This ]


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