04-Oct-2000
The Playground by DaMoyre
Poem
Platinum lights caressing the grass,
Covered by old rubber and shattered glass,
Rusted metal, concrete and chains.
Night, and the other children had gone away.The moon alone witnessing the circle
Blood stained fangs, hands and faces,
Dark smiles and shimmery velvet
Old-fashioned and dusty, cobweb bearer.Swing up, swing down, swing front, swing back,
Golden child, delicate and weightless.
Purity beyond words. And his eyes,
Deep and bright pools of green, darkened by his tears.Fear and silence, imperfect.
Sound of cracking bones
One. Two. Three.
He knew how to count, you see.Crimson fluid warm and bitter,
Not quite. Sweet to their mouths,
Sharp cuts, incisive piercings
Drinking in the light, heartwarming passion.Cold and stiff, discard the body.
Tender skin now hardened and wilted,
Silent steps following the moon.
Retreat to darkness, unspoken mysteries.
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