From the Dagger to the Mausoleum

A poem I wrote when I was an angsty teenager back in 2006.

After the quietest day on the darkest night,
When the air was moist and still.
No sound to be heard, no sight but the sky,
No feeling but an unsettling chill.
Your words lingered off all knowings of trust.
All hope was left in my cure.
Whisper these harsh words if you must,
How you wish my blood wasen't yours.

For my body is cold and my blood is dried,
And my corpse lay still in abyss.
With a dagger in my hand and a tear in my eye,
You hoped it would end like this.

The dust from the dirt billows into the sky.
The moonlight reflects off the tombs.
The branches and leaves are dull and dry.
Beneathe are bones sentenced to doom.
Longing for my suffering, for the venom to dry.
Hoping i'm too far gone to save.
Watching the poison with a close eye,
So you could make me turn in my grave.

For my body is cold and my blood is dried,
And my corpse lay still in abyss.
With a dagger in my hand and a tear in my eye,
You hoped it would end like this.

Silence is pierced by a screaching scream.
Crows fly off branches in flocks.
The place for the dead is no longer serene,
And the dagger suddenly drops.
You waited and waited and waited and prayed.
Your intentions were misconcieved.
You made me die in my own little way,
By adorning to bring false belief.

For my body is cold and my blood is dry,
And my corpse lay still in abyss.
With a dagger in my hand and a tear in my eye,
You hoped it would end like this.

Yes with that dagger in my hand and a tear in my eye,
You prayed for my suicide.

Reviews

[...]

... wow ... exceptionally well composed and rendered ... you have a rare felicity with words ... the repetitions are excellently placed ... some rather amazing alliteration in several lines also embellishes this verse ... these are my favourite lines of this poem ...

You waited and waited and waited and prayed.
Your intentions were misconcieved.
You made me die in my own little way,
By adorning to bring false belief.

For my body is cold and my blood is dry,
And my corpse lay still in abyss.
With a dagger in my hand and a tear in my eye,
You hoped it would end like this.

Yes with that dagger in my hand and a tear in my eye,
You prayed for my suicide.

... i think also that what makes this poem outstanding is the fact that you are adept at depicting that feeling of being driven off the cliff ... the momentum of this write increases with every line ... the negative spiral is depicted with immaculate ease and innate skill ... brilliant!!! ...

[Tiss Proper]

Sounds like a good song...!

[zombiikillah666]

nicely written... good mental images...lol....
i flippen loved it. (:
Great job!! *gives you frosted flakes* :D

[A.Lee]

Wow, what a powerful poem... I love the way you described this. I was taken aback when I realized that the narrator was the one who had died. I love the way you used that. A very unique touch to this type of subject. I really liked the repetition, especially in the last two stanzas. Excellent work.

[Gomer LePoet]

A great piece here though I'm not into blood and suicide stuff. But this really well written. great pace, great rhyming. I liked this very much.

[Devons]

This is very powerful and evocative, and very well written. I really love the imagery; the tomb, the dagger, the crows, the dead.. Very strong sense of the moribund. There are some very good lines, plotted together very gracefully; and the repeated chorus-like verse is particularly effective. It begins like an old dark, nightmarish legend, and plays-out that way; sewn-up satisfyingly. This is impressive, and I totally forgot any sense of teenage angst! A writer of any age ought to be proud of this...

"Silence is pierced by a screaching scream.
Crows fly off branches in flocks.
The place for the dead is no longer serene,
And the dagger suddenly drops."

Excellent work.

[J.M. Barrett]

I wrote this four years ago.