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Curse of days</b>

Standing from a distance nothing seems astray,
The man simply sees a ruined house which has seen better days.
He’s heard stories that it fell victim to a tragic demise,
Caused by a plague of death and lies.

Once bright white walls are now blackened by the hate,
That filled the house on that unforgettable date.
Windows, long shattered, floor boards, rotted away,
All caught up in a storm of utter decay.

He wonders how its secrets are still unsolved.
He wonders why he still wants to be involved.
Nothing can change the simple truth,
That those people had died, and so did his youth.

Yet he makes a bold move towards the door,
Drawn by a feeling he cannot ignore,
That perhaps that day he would find the light,
To illuminate his life, to end the everlasting night.

He enters slowly with a nervous twitch,
Fearing the doubt being more than a simple itch.
For in his mind he recalls those faces
Of those long departed in all those enclosed places.

A group of poor souls had hid in desperation
Upstairs in a closet to avoid damnation.
A mother and two children, fearing the wrath,
Of a man who had fallen off the righteous path.

His heart bent by feelings of misplaced love,
He swore to the sky, to the heavens above,
That he would slay them for what they had done,
Even if it meant killing his wife, and only son.

The man’s mind stops for a moment of peace,
Hoping his fears would also decrease.
For he knew this angry lover had found his prey,
And unleashed his anger on them, without delay.

His memory is fixed on an image for a while,
Of that evil man in the fire, with the villainous smile.
For when he extinguished those poor souls, and set the building alight,
He walked away into the embers, forever from human sight.

But one life emerged, and a shattered future began,
For the son, the young boy, who now stood as a man.
Whose heart reached out to end his curse of days,
With memories of that eternal blaze.

The man, the survivor, begins to leave,
Seeing nothing to help him, to give him relieve.
But as he reaches to open the door,
It stings his hand and falls to the floor.

The man falls to his knees and can’t believe his eyes,
That the world outside had met its demise,
Instead of seeing the rolling hills of green
He sees a truly horrifying scene

The world was burning, he was in hell,
There was no escape, he had long said farewell.
And there outside was that wicked man
The son had fallen and the curse of days began.
A poem i did for a house writing competition at school.
I don't really consider myself a very good poet, and this is the first poem i've written in years. I hope you like it, and understand it. ^^;
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:iconzerodevil:
ZeroDevil Featured By Owner Mar 13, 2009
Very impressive writing indeed.
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:iconbahns:
Bahns Featured By Owner Mar 14, 2009
Thank you very much. :D
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:iconnecron-cheese:
Necron-cheese Featured By Owner Mar 12, 2009
I'm very impressed Wiggs! :D This has a very gothic, fatalistic theme to it, something which I enjoy writing. This is an awesome job considering you haven't written poetry in years.

Hampden will come first! (moment of shining optimism)
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:iconbahns:
Bahns Featured By Owner Mar 14, 2009
Thank you very much. :) But i think your optimism is a bit misplaced. ^^;
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March 12, 2009
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