Longing

This poem is an artistic representation for longing.

Cuts. Chafing. Lashes. Burning.

By the torment of the past these

Weights shall be your everlasting

Burdens of shame, for Father Time

Is nobody's friend except for Lucifer

Himself. It is he, The Prince of Darkness,

That spins the threads of your bloody

Bondage that is life itself; Not even

Death will grant you his freedom,

For Time chooses to count the

Unbearable lingering of your miserable

Existence for only his terrible

Mistress. And yet, as allowed by Fate

Herself, it is ironically the sword of

Your own desire that will pierce you

The deepest, the slowest, and the

Sharpest, vanquishing your soul

In it's entirety.