Quietly Insane By Ronald S Porter
there are no secrets in the house of pain
in the citadel of death there is no fear.
At the foot of the mighty mountain
on the outskirts of madness, she
reclines on a divan, like a queen;
the Lady of Devastation and Entropy.
Dressed in a glorious gown of regal red
that to human eyes appears as emerald green
she sips black coffee and nibbles on dark
chocolate and smokes a slender cigarette.
With each sip, each bite, each puff
a thounsand worlds die amidst silent screams.
... She smiles
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.