Crona's Poem 4 Poem by Blair Haven

Crona's Poem 4



Everyone has a hell; it's just hidden, inside their head.
Darkness in my blood flood through my being slowly, much like a river flowing into a well.
Scars of black blood and souls captured by the unholy blade,
Screams of humans that pierced my ears as I bother not to hear what they tried to say.
I'm alone, truly alone. With a mother who beat me and stole my freedom, I was a prisoner…
In my own home.
The walls around me close in, slowly, ever so slowly they begin to cave in and creak.
Breath ragged in sleep, haunting memories of dark sins to keep.
The ever silent death glides behind, every step, each breath…
A dull sign of being alive.
Colors and kindness seem dim and bitter,
Everyone gave up on me…the world's youngest sinner.
I can't deal with this….I just can't.
Slaying humans and taking their souls, growing stronger as my blade cackles at the food it's granted.
Blood red tears stream down weary eyes, tired of death, of all these lies.
Betrayal, darkness, death.
Shuffling down the street, sleepy and smelling of meth.
Peak of youth drained from pale features, happy gleam gone.
A now soulless creature.
Laughing sun, grinning moon,
The time of death, surely must be soon.
Cold hands grip the blade as it screams killing and destroying poor unwilling human beings.
The sound of bodies hitting the floor, motionless in pools of blood,
The remaining few run in horror from the massacre and gore.
Childish laughter parts from parched lips,
And cool dark blood it does sip.
Poor eyes glint with sadness, not a glimmer of hope left.
The cold threads of darkness in a brain, stealing innocence in a deadly theft.
Curses and harsh words have already been said,
I can't take this anymore!
My name is Crona; help me settle the score…
Between myself and the hell inside my head.

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