Exile Overcomes

My journey started long ago,
on a summer’s morn well lit.
Who’d know now it darkness fall,
alone and cold I sit.

Surrounded by friends and endless love,
to the fields I strode to fight.
After long time pass on my return,
something was not right.

Especially her, that one I loved,
the largest of my loss.
My one true love that turned her back,
and nailed me to this cross.

Her black nails and darken eyes,
pierced my heart like steel.
Thrashing out with verbal stain,
my weakness, her reveal.

My blood did spout upon the floor,
the razors in my hand,
laugh she did, and curse my pain,
and thought that all was grand!

For as I was off in distant lands,
learning my trade so strong and true.
She was back here, building her hate,
as darkness would ensue.

Now she walks away from me,
leaving me here to die.
In open wound and fester sin,
she’s scornfully rubbed in lye.

I try to scream but only sobs,
pour forth and wet the ground.
Shout I may and fight these chains,
but again I make now sound.

For a while I died upon that post,
alone to fall from high.
No one here to hold me close,
to hear my final sigh.

When light from above shown down on me,
restore my strength and mind.
My wounds did close and sores did heal,
vengance shall be mine!

The chains crumbled as I fought,
and fell from my final post.
Scars remain and nothing more,
only distain I now boast.

To find that darkened angel near,
whose wings had tattered my flesh.
To take the light that burns her eyes,
and her soul now I shall crush.

Blade in hand, I wandered deep,
to every land I saught.
To find this evil seraphim,
to make record of how we fought.

Then on one fateful night,
the cherub I had found.
But then unto my own suprise,
to my same post now she was bounds.

Nails deep within her palms,
crusted hair of blood in face.
Her dress was tattered, gloves were torn,
left to die in place.

Wicked slashes lined her chest,
her post was lined with blood.
Deeply sigh she did on sight,
of my appearance before her stood.

My eyes burned red with hate supreme,
my flesh turned to acid hot.
I rose my blade above my head,
and prepared my wrate to wraught.

Remember the heels upon my chest,
her knives placed to my chest.
As she laughed and struck me down,
given no time to rest.

Now nailed to this post so strong,
her wings burnt to the bone.
Her aura faded by the sec,
as she turned as cold as stone.

Blade above I took one look,
as tears rolled down her face.
A final cry came from her soul,
as I began to swing my mace.

I brung my hate down broke her chains,
she fell unto my feet.
The same wounds burdens now her flesh,
she too has felt defeat.

In my arms I took her up,
dropped my mace of sin.
“Aid I’ll give and cure your pain,
and return you to your kin.”

“Have I no wings like yours,
still an angel you are to me.
For in my strength you will heal,
and again, beautiful you will be.”

From that post that I have burned,
the scars forever deep,
but the time was spent in other’s strength,
for those times I will keep.

By Azurael

Enjoys: Razor blades Cat 'o' Nines Roses Poetry Dispair Self-Destruction