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Let Her Sleep, let Her Weep as the Wounds She Inflicted
#WritcoPoemPrompt12
Let her sleep deep,
Let us not weep,
For she is at her journey’s end,...
left with no memories to mend., She casts upon you the Demonic from Hell, & inherently draws forces from where thee Angels Dwell. By my Faith am I summoned, though far from Cthulu's realm do I serve,... though I've often been Tempted & Preempted Her Minions up n C,mons has my life 'more often than not' taken a swerve. My Love for Her is in my Mind "Unconditional" thereby making it even harder to SEE how badly I've hurt Her Inside,...'making my anguished protests nothing close to noteworthy' languishing now whereupon my lord is the Nordics "Sutur Thee Blighty" inviting me in to his foul & fiery abode less tighty. I find myself bereft & cleft of self & dancing like Loki's puppet though he be an Evil Elf. With Immortal restraint She endures his bullshit, screaming to Heavens very gates all the while He's not even wary of it. I'm self exiled by way of Hella's portal lest I come correct more than once, twice or thrice like the Goddess Sïf she'd be in it to Win it. Amongst tendrils coiling do I find myself endlessly toiling bashing & slashing lest I become sharp centered beak's rumored & tumored foul street dishonored cornered night Owl.
【Twice, no...thrice bitten no longer shy.】
© Copyrighted by Drin Jacöb Hildebränd & Writco
Let her sleep deep,
Let us not weep,
For she is at her journey’s end,...
left with no memories to mend., She casts upon you the Demonic from Hell, & inherently draws forces from where thee Angels Dwell. By my Faith am I summoned, though far from Cthulu's realm do I serve,... though I've often been Tempted & Preempted Her Minions up n C,mons has my life 'more often than not' taken a swerve. My Love for Her is in my Mind "Unconditional" thereby making it even harder to SEE how badly I've hurt Her Inside,...'making my anguished protests nothing close to noteworthy' languishing now whereupon my lord is the Nordics "Sutur Thee Blighty" inviting me in to his foul & fiery abode less tighty. I find myself bereft & cleft of self & dancing like Loki's puppet though he be an Evil Elf. With Immortal restraint She endures his bullshit, screaming to Heavens very gates all the while He's not even wary of it. I'm self exiled by way of Hella's portal lest I come correct more than once, twice or thrice like the Goddess Sïf she'd be in it to Win it. Amongst tendrils coiling do I find myself endlessly toiling bashing & slashing lest I become sharp centered beak's rumored & tumored foul street dishonored cornered night Owl.
【Twice, no...thrice bitten no longer shy.】
© Copyrighted by Drin Jacöb Hildebränd & Writco
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