Unto Me
What shall thyself do?
When the night mourns thy selfless brew
And shall call upon thee
As for soon, ye shall see
The blackened eyes of death
That lingers past the baby’s breath
That shall grow upon thy future grave
And ye cannot soulfully save
Thyself upon thee
Of all the things
That ye hath done unto me
~~~
Contain thyself
As ye shall make a fall
Into the arms of Hell
And under all demons' claws
For the horrid crime
Of that against love
That ye hath done unto me
~~~
But,
O, what a torturous lapsing hand!
That makes me burrow upon the ocean sand
And turned the sour grin of the devil upside down
That left him to cry upon thy grave
Onto which in time I shall lay
That ye hath done unto me
~~~
As I yet wait upon the calling year
Of angels to whisper into my troubled ear
That all hath been a dream
Of the awakening smile of thee
But can not one
Turn thy events undone
That ye hath done unto me?
Copyright © Alyssa Finley | Year Posted 2006
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment