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Post by Mallory on Jan 18, 2006 6:12:41 GMT -5
Hello all I have been away so long I decided to come back with a poem.
This was kind of unhappy and pictures a doubtful Preston who's gone crazy over so much death and guilt.
I know, I know Preston would never do what I describe but hey Artistic licence my friends.
At What Prize Freedom?
The echoes of his guilt resonated in his head He had his freedom but he wished for death A bloody vengeance but many dead friends He led a revolution with out a soul A dead best friend he’d never known A rotting wife he hadn’t love He was a hero the people cried He missed the lover he never had The one sweet kiss that was now marred The smell of burning flesh that cut his heart Tabula Rasa he dared and hoped Yet all he saw was death and gore At what prize freedom, He asked himself When all he wanted was gone in flames He hated feelings, he missed his drug He went quite crazy one rainy night He burn himself just like old days He never mentioned he went insane And in his memoirs a lie he wrote The prize of freedom he said Is worth all things even your loved one’s death
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Post by JenGe on Jan 19, 2006 1:43:06 GMT -5
Wow Mallory very, very good. I'll be sure to add it to the site's poetry page soon...
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Post by JenGe on May 1, 2006 12:07:20 GMT -5
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