Thus, the exile began

Raving, the Raven with talons at the neck,

Swooning to the ground with tears unspent,

Volatile in nature, impending fast but not lent

She harkens and folds

As the Crimson color rolls

Towards the dastardly role

Woe is not she, woe to he who’s cold.

To say just to say even though it’s not meant

Exiled from the hearth, hated since birth.

Pen in hand,

saying to the souls all dues to circumspect

But, to be the many rings on a tree, it’s unspoken to give respect.

Thus, the exile began.

Immersed in water, drowning yet afloat

A philosophers dream, the envy of the goat.

Sunken until the tea cup rings,

You are now complicit in Every Single Thing.

Oh,now the pen won’t stop to breath

A heaviness in beat, it creeps up her skirt only smelling death. It goes again with breath.

Exiled in a prison only the reflection sees its mirth

Expired like the forgotten, soon after birth

This is my pen, and it won’t be stilled

There’s targets over yonder, plus I’m strong willed.

Thus, the exile continues

Thanks for reading part II of my Dark Poetry series. Connect with me on Instagram and also on my YouTube channel A Dip into the Forbidden .

Until next time!

Love all my readers

Xo Z Jay.

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