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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

Nocturne


Bhurin

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This poem is more artsy than what I normally do. I like the atmosphere more than anything.

 

(This poem is quite surprising to me actually, because it took me only ten minutes to write, while it's kin normally take me a few hours...)

 

Enjoy

 

Nocturne

 

A cold breeze kisses your cheek,

Almost sinful. Almost pure.

You stand alone within this world,

Stead fast, yet unsure.

 

Dark as void. Bright as shade.

Like a flowing ebony veil.

Caressing all things with feather touch,

With a silent, soul piercing gale.

 

A scent is upon the breeze,

You catch it, then its gone.

With vague intimacy, it frightens you,

For the sense feels somehow wrong.

 

Your soul on fire, your blood runs cold,

You feel this sense of dread.

That feeling somehow spoke to you,

With words that remain unsaid.

 

You want to leave. Yet, you stay.

Somehow, this place is home.

The words you heard, spoke not of fear.

But more like a love poem.

 

Yet you hesitate this feeling,

Your eyes deceive your heart.

The feeling of this place as home,

Is suddenly torn apart.

 

The darkness consumes. It has you now.

But you tear away, cry out for aegis.

The fear is gone. You escape its grasp.

Your soul becomes courageous.

 

You shatter this sable gem,

Your shouts ring out. Silence broken.

The true words of the darkness poem,

Are sadly left unspoken.

 

Yet this holds no grief for you,

You left that world behind.

You push the feeling away from you.

You rid it from your mind.

 

Although you know not what to think.

There's nothing left to say.

The Darkness is a memory.

You rub the kiss away.

 

Signed-

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