Broken Faces

September 27, 2012
By Quinntessa PLATINUM, Amherst, Massachusetts
Quinntessa PLATINUM, Amherst, Massachusetts
30 articles 4 photos 4 comments

Favorite Quote:
I am being frank about myself in this book. I tell of my first mistake on page 850.
- Henry Kissinger

Her single majesty of white
Plants destruction in the soil
In which
Seeds are spread to
Every dark cavern
Set in the great depression of earth

A cheerless tree
In a desolate land of graves
Dying from infestation
Of insects' hairy legs
Who cry
Cry at the whisper of death
Hanging in the air
Waiting for a solemn answer
By the mischievous
Beaks of ravens
On the limbs of the trunk

Swooping into
Wild blue yonder
Crippled with thorns pierced
Into splintering talons
Leaves strangled into knotted
Filthied with excrement from
The under ground

Snow begins to fall
Covering the tombs of crumbled limbs
Buried deep beneath
The mud, white
Under the touch of Persephone
Brings the scent of
Silence in the air and
The generations of parting and passing
Of loved ones and
The ravens turn cold,
Falling to the earth,

Blanketed by the snowflakes
Drifting from the sky
Creating the wings of doves
From the dismembered
Black birds
They fall up
Into the peace of sky
With clouds
Sprinkled with ash gagged
By the gods,
Turning the sky to darkened death

Hell takes over
Promising ruin to
The cemetery of graves
Holding capsules
Of dreams
The ones which lay
Underneath the
Sending guile in each drop
Splintering to the
Cracked claws of
The birds

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