A Cursed Poet

engulfed by flames of wrath,

he swirled around, igniting

the entire darken path,

inky words spilled, writing

.

the pitiable heart’s hollow pain,

immeasurable as perpetual night,

and ruptured, the day light slain,

against the dispersed body’s might,

.

it was just the beginning,

of his eroding soul, and existence,

the sirens whilst singing,

calling, desiring for his penance,

.

which would claim, who he was,

a king, passionate and grim,

left with the marks, of the paws,

of the evil, that had bequeathed him,

.

a task of seven pebbles, the sins,

he had to conquer, and control,

engraving in his dark skin,

the spell of the ancient scrolls,

.

he yearned, for a safe escape,

to the regime of his still life,

away from the dark shapes,

of his demons of strife,

.

there was no way out,

but through the way in hell,

no longer any time for doubt,

he bend to his will’s shell,

.

shielding him, for the nature

favored for his survival,

as he passed through the gates,

bringing as a result, a revival,

.

of his blessings, against the curse,

he was determined to bring down,

by the power, of his virulent verse,

reclaiming his soul, and heart, his crown

 

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Submitting the link to:

1. MindLoveMisery’s Prompt: Curse

2. Sunday Whirl

3. Poetry Pantry