Words fill the crevices of my mind.
Emotions that are too hard to find.
Love poetry trembles from my lips.
Your passion I can bear in small sips.
Behind closed eyes, I can still see your face.
Hard features I cannot seem to erase.
Filled pages fall from my open fingers.
The unspoken love sonnet still lingers.
Maybe I should burn my wall of pages
To help clear my mind of these wild rages.
The ocean roars its fury.
Arms lift in supplication.
Waves bend sharp rocks.
No boats dare the swells.
The sun hides.
Mist fills the air.
Will we be worthy?
Is mankind ever worthy?
Will the waters recede for us?
The answer lies in the ocean’s depths of despair.
We bow our heads and pray.
COME TO ME
I am waiting.
No wind will fall me.
No wave will take me.
Evil takes many forms.
One of its own is coming.
The leader of The Dead.
He waits for no one.
But I wait for him.
The winds will rage.
The ocean will roar.
A quiet will descend.
The end has come.
The battle between good and evil.
THE DEAD GAME will be played no more.
THE DEAD GAME