Apocalypse
Walking down desperate streets
Searching a deserted city
Every town I reach
Fills my soul with pity
Evil consumes these places
Empty hearts and wondering faces
Struggling to see through the illusions
Loosing my mind and gaining confusion
Apocalyptic city lie in wake
It’s kill or be killed no mistakes
I’ll battle anyone who stands in my way
Of making it to a new day
Even you can’t match my strength
Your history is complete but mine is blank
scrye commented on Apocalypse
07-08-2009
07/08/2009
Poetry is not the expression of personality but an escape from personality.
T. S. Eliot (1888-1965) American-English poet and playwright.
| Title | Comments | Submitted |
|---|---|---|
| Title | Comments | Submitted |
| Echoing In Darkness | 2 | 07/08/2009 |
| My End | 1 | 07/08/2009 |
| Open Wounds And Frail Hearts | 0 | 07/08/2009 |
| Waiting To Fade | 2 | 07/08/2009 |
| Blind To Self-Destruct ion |
3 | 07/08/2009 |
| Dark intentions | 1 | 07/08/2009 |
| Apocalypse | 1 | 07/08/2009 |
| Devious Exchange | 3 | 07/08/2009 |
| Blatant Disreguard | 2 | 07/08/2009 |
| Normally Neglected | 3 | 07/08/2009 |
| My Realization | 4 | 02/06/2009 |
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