Hey guys, I wrote a poem the other day and got some praise for it and advice. So i'm going to post it and if anyone has any questions, advice, or praise. Please feel free to do so
Treachery! Despondence has driven my subjects from my grasp.
Alone. In this desolate bulwark of misery and abandonment.
Caused by my own hand, tainted with the blood of the unholy.
The very walls moan with death. Battered from their vengeful trebuchets,
They stand meekly with cowardice
Woe! For my soul is beyond salvation
May I not pray that which is most benevolent?
For even he has turned himself from my sight.
I walk this wretched purgatory
In hope that my retribution may come soon
My cathedrals desecrated
My castles, bastions of fortitude and strength, in shambles.
Grand epitaphs to the divine, bathed in blood.
Far hath my great city fallen.
A city paved in the very blood of it's retainers
Lord! Strike at me with your hallowed blade!
So that I may free this world of my corruptions presence!
Were I not contracted to that devious Abaddon
Would I fall upon my own sword
I pray for death, I have shown no mercy, and received no mercy in return. How wicked
Alas. Sweet release may yet still be within my reach
For my kin approaches
"Dear brother, I welcome your arrival
Surely you know of my dreaded deeds?
I am malevolent indeed and am not worthy to live.
Wielding the blade of Nuada, surely you
Can end my suffering
For Saint Peter shall not call my name in this day!
So come! My kindred foe! Drive your sacred steel into the breast
Of the demon that stands be for you."
Treachery! Despondence has driven my subjects from my grasp.
Alone. In this desolate bulwark of misery and abandonment.
Caused by my own hand, tainted with the blood of the unholy.
The very walls moan with death. Battered from their vengeful trebuchets,
They stand meekly with cowardice
Woe! For my soul is beyond salvation
May I not pray that which is most benevolent?
For even he has turned himself from my sight.
I walk this wretched purgatory
In hope that my retribution may come soon
My cathedrals desecrated
My castles, bastions of fortitude and strength, in shambles.
Grand epitaphs to the divine, bathed in blood.
Far hath my great city fallen.
A city paved in the very blood of it's retainers
Lord! Strike at me with your hallowed blade!
So that I may free this world of my corruptions presence!
Were I not contracted to that devious Abaddon
Would I fall upon my own sword
I pray for death, I have shown no mercy, and received no mercy in return. How wicked
Alas. Sweet release may yet still be within my reach
For my kin approaches
"Dear brother, I welcome your arrival
Surely you know of my dreaded deeds?
I am malevolent indeed and am not worthy to live.
Wielding the blade of Nuada, surely you
Can end my suffering
For Saint Peter shall not call my name in this day!
So come! My kindred foe! Drive your sacred steel into the breast
Of the demon that stands be for you."