Dark angel of death
I have written two poems, each dealing with a different aspect of myself. I simply have allowed both to speak for themselves. The first one, "Dark angel of death", deals with my sturggle with rage and anger and yes I guess with a false sense of justice.
The second poem is about "The angel of life" (I will post it tomorrow)and I guess how they work together. This is a bit melodramatic I know, but I just left it the way it flowed out of me. It was a very interesting experience for me to do this. It took about 15 minutes, I figured do it fast and don't try to tone it down. So I did not.
Dark angel of death
Wrapped in flowing robes of darkness,
taller than any man dare hope to achieve,
my eyes flashing,
yellow orbs of orange,
seeing deeply into the mind’s of others,
(I know more than anyone would care to believe).
Long hair ebony black
and teeth made of cruel steel,
pointed and merciless;
yes I can be the renderer of flesh
if I so choose.
Such is my countenance,
my terrible beauty before you
at last revealed;
my proud head bowed
seeking only to serve you,
or any who need my assistance.
For many do indeed allow me to embrace them,
cold it is,
my blue flame;
welcomed.
I seek to strike all those who threatened you,
do you not see my long pitiless sword,
sharper than any earthly one (?),
it cuts through all whom you hate
and yes fear,
Indeed this is the food I crave
and my sword thirsts
for the life force of those I judge unworthy,
or cruel,
and yes unkind,
so it is true
I have become what I hate,
becoming the unjust judge
and the one who executes unrighteousness
on anyone I deem worthy of my attention.
My frustration rips through your soul Mark,
yet you constrain me,
I seek my freedom
yet I am under the heel
of my twin whom I love and hate,
the angel of life.
I drink darkness,
the dark arts call you
yet you refuse,
I have laid my traps
yet you escape my control,
for I want you to be mine
bringing you into a world of freedom
you have never experienced,
one of freedom to hate,
kill,
to do harm to those who harm others.
Is not my honesty better,
immediate fulfillment I offer;
yet you scorn me,
for I hate your inner embrace,
for you treat me as if I am a child,
when in fact I am a god,
your prayer to the other scalds me,
I hate it,
and yes also desire what it offers,
for my inner most being
is one of conflict
with myself,
God,
and most of all you;
my jailer.
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