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