Monday, 19 March 2012

A Coffin Couldn't Hold Me - A Poem

Struck down before my prime,
Dragged out from the shadows.
Bound in chains of silver
And hung at the gallows.

They said that went I died
Rivers ran red with blood,
And mighty forests burned -
Flames devouring the wood.

 Buried, six-feet under,
Inside a nameless tomb,
Waiting for salvation
To free me from this doom.

It came in virgin form,
A girl of sixteen years.
She opened up my grave
Unleashing one so feared.

The chains of silver break,
My fangs, they seize her neck.
I drink her gushing blood -
It runs down my bare chest.

Then I gaze up at the moon,
The only friend I have.
Always there to watch me,
To guide me on my path.

So I run through the night,
Naked, bloodstained, raging.
Searching, stalking, hunting
Those who tried to stop me.

The fools should have realised -
They should have come to see -
That there's not a coffin,
Out there that could hold me...

© Copyright Cory Eadson, 2012

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