Story Poems

A stone could'nt break these two birds feathered, we tight,

Perfection's a misconception,

But we're always looking for it in a mate.

The Word of God is my sword; as a Samurai-
an extension of my soul.
To the putting on of the new man unto perfection, as
mentioned in second of Corrinth, anyone new or common

Upon the face of order I move,
a shadow frozen in time.
Seeking the Godhead.

Shattered reflections of an era past,
writhe past me with delicate grace.

It came at her quietly.

It invaded her body so suprisingly.

That deadly thing didn't stay for long

and we all thought it would stay gone.

'I miss the way you use to do things now you are somewhere afar, and I cannot reach out. Everytme I call out, I hear your tears. Pain speaking louding than your silence towards me.