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My Book of Dark Poetry
This is what i write......
The Better Half


I lie here awake,
The music of their sleep ringing in my ears.
But among their obnoxious noise,
There is something else I hear.

It’s the soft fluttering of wings,
And I see someone standing next to me.
I sit up on my bed,
And there he stands in garments of red.

His face is gaunt and his hair red,
If I did not know better it was me.
But if I am sitting here on this bed,
Who would be visiting little me?

His mouth opens to speak,
But the words form in my mind.
He is my better half I learn,
Born out of the ideals of my mind.

His clothes are dyed a deep red,
Born out of the pain that I have been dealt.
His face torn and shattered,
From the pain that I take to help others out.

His wings are torn from the years of flight,
Of helping countless others from their plight.
His bare arms scarred from the marks,
The marks that adorn my own.

He explains that he is tired of hiding,
Of cowering within a cold shell.
But if he was allowed out of it,
Then others would see my living hell.

He shakes his head at that thought,
Drawing me up and out of the comfort of the sheets.
Up through the roof of the hut we float,
Up to the night where there is no heat.

We stand underneath the night expanse,
Not a light to see out through the dark.
For the rain has slowly begun,
Shielding the moon and stars from what is to come.

As the rain pours down over us,
My shell cracks underneath the weight of it.
For you see the movie was indeed right,
In its talk that God was out in it.

The metal is soon covered by the moisture,
Both crimson and clear.
For God takes away all pain that we have been dealt,
All of the pain and thoughts we have felt.

His clothes are now black,
Yet he holds nothing back.
His wings unfold and stretch themselves out,
Much like a young bird, about to take flight.

The ground below is stained with red and clay,
Having taken his pain away.
The clay comes from my shell,
That seems to have shattered and give way.

He smiles at me and places a hand on my shoulder,
And I awake to the sound of my clock.
But my bed is soaked from water,
This I realize with quite a shock.

When I wake up my friend,
He asks me why my shirt is stained red.
I smile and hear the soft sound of wings,
And ask if he is ready to get out of bed.





 
 
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