It…


Blood cascading down these
obscure stairs...
Black curtains on the moonlit walls
Screams were not heard...for nobody cares
Of restlessness Souls roaming the halls

Where Kings and Queens ruled the land
Lived a cheerless Princess of disdain
When a gleeful Prince wanted her hand
Was just for his title to be gained

Frolicking maidens with rosy cheeks
Circle the Soul with impute thoughts
Each one has full peaks
Through all the jeers and daunts

As darkness descends with clouds of rain
The Soul wanders to a murky door
It leads to the IT drain
Wherein blood is the toast pour

Rain washes away the tears...
That still remain on a disdain face
Long forgotten ill-fated fears
Nobody can even trace

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This Poems Story

The poem came to me from my darker side.