by damommza & sunovawot

The dark and bloody moon
it shines through my window
a storm is twisting branches
as they bow to threat of snow

the candles flicker wildly
their flames lick at my face
all the world is poison
I’m safest in my space

the doors are tightly bolted
the shades now drawn and dark
I check each inch of my skin
but find no devil’s mark

and yet I’m cursed and have been
there really was no choice
they could have ended my life
by silencing my voice

I take my pen to paper
and as I begin to write
these stories just flow from me
on this cold and hopeless night

for words are where my power lives
in every measured phrase
to take another step beyond
the prison of my days

the chances they have wasted
to bring me to my knees
to place their mark upon me
like some loathsome disease

and come once more the morning
when all their power has fled
I’ll take my turn as hunter
and paint the streets blood red

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  1. damommza

     /  September 2, 2015

    I’ve read and re-read this poem and I think it’s one of the best ones we’ve ever written. 😀 It gives me the chills!

  2. Ah, graffiti is everywhere these days 😀

    * Takes a whizz bang electric spray unit out and cleans his fence *

    • damommza

       /  September 3, 2015

      Boys, boys!!! Stop throwing things!! Just more stuff for me to vacuum up! *bombs sunovawot and poussinboi with glitter and runs away wifakwikness*

    • Too much like hard work for me 😀 Making the mess is, for some reason, always easier than the cleaning up 😀

  3. write on. and peace be with you. 🙂

  4. damommza

     /  September 11, 2015

    Thank you adaein3! I hope you enjoyed the poem and peace be with you as well. 😀

    • *weeks later…* Why yes, I did enjoy the poem damommza! Reminded me of parts of my childhood when the imagination took over as my “rents” were too busy to explain the scary stuff of life.You know,the stuff that makes you grow up! 🙂 (and get a grip) :O

  5. You know,sunovawot. Like when you are 6 yrs.old and the screech owl wakes you up in the middle of the night and there’s foxes mating on the front lawn (get a room!) and you don’t dare wake your parents up but it sounds like someone’s being murdered. but you compose yourself because waking your parents up might be worse…. Actually, I never want to grow up, just have a grip on things. Science is understanding.
    Your poem is good and scary!


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