Dragons Breath Poem by Ace Of Black Hearts

Dragons Breath

Rating: 5.0


What is so horrifying, if there is no absolute defeat?
Breeding the perfect scream.
Is it inside my head, or is that really me?

Escaping to the sounds music.
Like the strumming of a slow heart beat.

So majestic, so mighty, yet so sweet.
Perfectly flawed in such a perfect way.
As if to say.

A muse speaking in tongues.
The inspiration from clouds of dust.
Ever expanding and shrinking.
The living breathing creature.

Escaping to the sounds music.
Like drumming of a slow heart beat.

What is so horrifying, if there is no absolute defeat?
Breeding the perfect scream.
Is it inside my head, or is that really me?

Silence echoing from deep.
Listening is a must.
A vibration in colors, not out of meaning but feelings.
These words can express only so much.
A gut instinct that whistles.
Beyond the visuals of moons reflection of a lake with a small breeze.
Where the greener pastures grab you and suck you in
There is just no escape.
But why would one ever want too.
An orgasm of the mind.

Escaping to the sounds music.
Like the strumming of slow heart beat.

So majestic, so mighty, yet so sweet.
Perfectly flawed in such a perfect way.
As if to say.

Escaping to the sounds music.
Like drumming of a slow heart beat.

What is so horrifying, if there is no absolute defeat?
Breeding the perfect scream.
Is it inside my head, or is that really me?

Makes you wonder
A fire is set right before that that flashing thunder.
Bells go off in this mix bag of dreams.
Questioning the very air in which you breath.
Seeing things that aren't even there.
Ghost and demons in leaps and bounds dancing all around.
Looking outside through fogged glasses on a rainy day.

As if to say,
As if to say,

Why can't there be another way.

Escaping to the sounds music.
Like the strumming of slow heart beat.

So majestic, so mighty, yet so sweet.
Perfectly flawed in such a perfect way.
As if to say.

Escaping to the sounds music.
Like drumming of a slow heart beat.

What is so horrifying, if there is no absolute defeat?
Breeding the perfect scream.
Is it inside my head, or is that really me?
Is that really me.

Why is it this is the thought that is always stuck on repeat.
As if to say
Why can't there be another way.

A road mapped out isn't a road at all.
Only that which is unknown, can be considered traveling somewhere new.
Shoes glued to your feet.
Ready to go, but no clue where.
So in your very own head you paint with a empty stare.
What if I told my soul is already there.
Already there.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Colleen Courtney 29 June 2014

Wow! This one I felt the need to vote a 10 and add to my list of favorites! There are just so many great and brilliant lines encased in this piece. It's a haunting read which will stick in the mind for awhile. Truly love this one!

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