Sitting on the rooftop, upon a field of ash and cinder,
Some men just want to watch the world burn.
A lost soul mourning, shadows cast of a life linger.
Up unto the sky, mushroom cloud glazed
A world in exhale from its last dying breath,
Screaming, torn between a veil, a hinged memory fazed.
Some men just like to see the pain, son,
Some men just like to watch you burn.
Some men will find pleasure in the death, son,
Some men would just love to make you turn.
Smoulder on the skin, upon a field of ash and cinder,
Some men just want to watch the world burn.
A disciple of a dream, writhing and wailing within the tinder.
Some men just like to taste the storm, son,
Some men just like to watch you burn.
Some men will enjoy your slow death, son
Some men would just love to make you yearn.
YOU ARE READING
Below Zero
PoetryBelow Zero was a small collection of dark poems written when I was younger. Personally, I don't like all of them as they reflect various states of minds and were more personal and amateur at the time of writing. Some of them, such of Nature of Human...
