And I Pray
Ripped by hate.
Torn by my heart.
Cracks which are formed inside my eyes.
Tears the hole in my chest.
I am carrying the demons crest.
Painting silver just to be close to the moon.
I am the snake.
My skin was slivered by the thorns.
I cried my best.
I tried to be like the rest.
Tears I have lost to the dunes.
Beauty lies beneath the sands.
There is no truth as the true by treasure.
Death brings forth her beautiful quietness.
Wonderfull by sight.
Sadness for the dying is worth far less.
Beauty does not shine away by being grinned or grinded.
Stoned in the eye of a diamond.
Boned to the marrow rotting in my spine.
I will rather spade my grave.
As to rake your gold plated faces.
What is destroyed, from above to beyond.
Can never be replaced.
What you take can never be repaired.
Not in this life.
And I pray.
Certainly not in the next.
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Comments about this poem (And I Pray by Unic Cjonr )
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
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