Dead Poets

This is the second poem I’ll be posting entitled “Dead Poets” and no it has nothing to do with the movie.

In blood and pain we find our solace,

The smoke of altars on candlelit nights,

The flick of a tongue, the flick of a razor,

Not much to distinguish our pleasure from pain,


Hearts many times shattered,

Souls shrouded in starlit night,

The taste of cloves and absinthe,

The peace of a soft grave to rest upon,


These are the balms of our tortured existence,

The chill embrace of death guarding our souls,

Lost in a world that denies us,

No place to belong, no place to call home.


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