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talking to myself

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Dark angel of death


markdohle

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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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