D.A.R.K. Apocalypse
Darkness, it reigns over the beautiful skies.
Angels keep falling and everyone dies.
Reaping every soul that lay around.
Keep listening to screaming, the only sound.
Clouds turn blood red,
lightning shines white.
Blackness has bled,
no light in sight.
Bodies lay cold,
ashen palor is their skin.
Warnings were they told,
to heed their sin.
God is angry,
their lives ended short.
The bodies left hanging,
not the beautiful sort.
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Love your way with macabre acrostics
I enjoy reading all of your poems, but this one I especially like because of the colouful second stanza and the starting stanza which drags you right in to every emotion in the poem from the start. You come on so heavy in the beginning, it's like the realization you're dying and the slow acceptance of it. Perhaps it is only me, I do enjoy the darker arts.
With all sincerity,
--The Bleeding Bridesmaid