poetry

There was

a poem

here.

It's gone now.

[This post has been removed by the author. If you wish to read it, please contact me directly.]

There was

a poem

here.

It's gone now.

[This post has been removed by the author. If you wish to read it, please contact me directly.]

There was

a poem

here.

It's gone now.

[This post has been removed by the author. If you wish to read it, please contact me directly.]

There was

a poem

here.

It's gone now.

[This post has been removed by the author. If you wish to read it, please contact me directly.]

(D)rain, my body; 
Spill not a drop. 

(S)ink, your fingers,
In the canvas of my soul.

(W)ash, the blood
That stains your hands. 

(S)top my torment--
If you can.

[Originally written by the player of Crow (Derakoth)]

There was

a poem

here.

It's gone now.

[This post has been removed by the author. If you wish to read it, please contact me directly.]

This is the mask you loved.         For I modeled it after you.
         I wear it still.                                                     Decayed

Forgiveness Forsaken.
Formalities Forgone.
Filthy existence
Soon to be undone.

Fraudulent Faces Follow
Fragile Facades,
An ebony Feather marks--
Forthcoming rage.

Fram and Gram
 

Fram and Gram were born in one hall!
They grew side by side, as they grew strong and tall!
Shared most things, only quarrelled now and then,
In twenty years they were fine young men,
In twenty years they were fine young men!