Beware her Wrath
Before she heads on the Warpath
She is a Warrioress
Breaking down from the Weariness
She sits alone
On top of her bloody throne
Ruling a kingdom beneath her feet
From here she commands her massacring fleet
She no longer has a home
It crumbled like the ruins of Rome
She's now on the warpath
A secret, sad, psychopath
Painting with thy enemies
She paints a beautiful picture with horrid memories
She knows she not getting into Elysium
She will fall into oblivion
She knows she's heartless
Light falls into darkness
Smoke around her lungs, curled
This is the end of her world
Stuck in a cage, billowing with rage
This is the end of the Golden age
She went on the warpath
And unleashed a bloodbath
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The entire time I was writing this I was thinking of Hera, Queen of the Heavens, in Greek mythology. She is really one twisted lady.
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Everything and What's Inbetween
PoetryDo you ever feel like only the saddest poems can describe your life? Yeah, me too. But have hope. It can get better. This doesn't last forever. Trigger warning! I write about depressing and sometimes sick things. Read at your own risk. ...
