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Post by Heretic on Jul 22, 2006 19:54:15 GMT -5
Forgotten, my little one There is no one Alone to scrape the moss on the graves Mouths open and the chanting saves Once thy promise left me gasping Thy moonlight I went grasping Now so cold as frost untold This winter's tomb is growing old To wicked hearts that observe the dead 'Neath the shadow of the roots, thy bed... Child's hands reach while ghosts crave The moss to be scraped from the graves.
This leaves me sick Eyeless I watch thee A godless brutality for the wicked I feel the favor of wolves Grief is an old frieind These grinning corpse-trees whisper secrets I hide here among their fingers Rebuke is my bride Eyeless I watch thee Scrape the moss from the graves...
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Post by radar on Jul 22, 2006 22:01:11 GMT -5
wow. man, your stuff has soooo much thought behind it. i read that like 3 times and still don't quite get it. awesome.
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Post by In Christ, the metalhead on Jul 23, 2006 0:19:50 GMT -5
same for me dude, its pretty indepth. but i like it.- what is it about?
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Post by Heretic on Jul 23, 2006 9:35:41 GMT -5
It's sort of about a friend who's leaving town, and how I'll always be watching for her. But it's hard to pull that out of the poem, I know. It's also kind of atmospheric in a way. Moss on gravestones obscures the writing, and so to scrape the moss off a grave is to in some way recover memories. Plus I just wanted to write something creepy. Thanks for the feedback!
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Post by empyreanishardcore on Jul 24, 2006 22:34:15 GMT -5
sweet...
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