Hands

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Hands

I have walked past.
I have left destruction, in my wake.
I have killed those who should have lived.
I have spared those who should have died.
I have sworn oaths with my left hand.
Defending.
Only to stride across with my right.
Releasing.

I have played God, and been serious of the Devil.
I have stood tall, with 3 arrows in me, pointing at those.
Who may have felled me.

Only once did I take my helm off.
And knelt before her...
And asked forgiveness.
She gave it.

But dark is my trade, and black is my face.
And I slumber.
So that your children may see
The Sun...

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In science one tries to tell people, in such a way as to be understood by everyone, something that no one ever knew before. But in poetry, it's the exact opposite.

Franz Kafka (1883-1924) Czech writer.

Jericho666’s Poems (10)

Title Comments
Title Comments
The Colour of Satan 0
Hands 0
Waiting For Hell 0
Angel 0
The Day After 0
Sympathy For The Damned 0
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When the Moon Gets Full 1
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You 0

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