My twisted dark poetry flows, it breathes,
A life force teeming with shadows and grief.
In moonlit nights, the ink stains my soul,
Confessions of darkness, tales untold.
Each stanza a dirge, a mournful refrain,
Echoes of sorrow, my heart's truest pain.
The words bleed onto the paper's white grave,
As my soul unravels, plea after plea.
Love, a phantom, lingers in the air,
A specter, haunting, with a silent stare.
Yet in my verse, its essence takes on form,
An ethereal union, reborn.
Death dances here, a macabre ballet,
Whispers of mortality, life's disarray.
And through the ink, my soul is set free,
A poet's catharsis, my twisted decree.
In these lines lies the essence of my being,
A labyrinth of thoughts, constantly fleeing.
My passion for writing, a tempestuous flame,
Words my armor, my solace, my bane.
And so I pen my twisted, dark poetic rhyme,
A glimpse into my soul's intricate design.
©viralfreak
V