More Fail Couplet Poems
My long nails carve patterns into cold frosted glass,
As I sit upon this tomb trimmed in gossamer and brass.
The rain is falling outside in dreadful sheets,
Drenching the rats that scuttle through the dark streets.
I wandered their alleys once but found none I could trust,
And now we look upon each other with some mutual disgust.
The world through my window is cold, tired and cruel.
Many of those rats say I'm crazy, but I'm no fool.
I've seen a man drive a dagger into his lover's heart,
Lust and jealously that tears brothers apart.
I've seen a monster lurk behind a red painted smile,
Disease that spoils a beautiful country mile.
And I rather stay terminally trapped in my own demon's shell
Than go out into that night and mingle with all of Hell.
My mind is a series of forgotten tombs,
A dark, dank place where madness looms.
Like a handful of worms my thoughts wriggle 'round,
Moving so beautifully to that darkwave sound.
And horror lives in the cockles of my heart,
Murky black blood in which I compose my art.
You can dip in your pen and see what comes out,
A treacherous tale of terror, no doubt.
Misery is always balancing on the tip of my tongue,
The dirge of an angel just waiting to be sung.
My voice is ridden with such well-worn sorrow
That many near doubt I'll live to see the morrow.
Then the sinister something that hides in my bones,
So dreadful it could wake the dead with its moans.
The Devil, a demon, perhaps even a vengeful ghost,
A spectre from beyond using me as its host.
Many may see this as some horrid curse,
But to be rid of it would only be for the worse.
Without these macabre things buried deep in my soul,
I'd only be part of an otherwise contented whole.
As I sit upon this tomb trimmed in gossamer and brass.
The rain is falling outside in dreadful sheets,
Drenching the rats that scuttle through the dark streets.
I wandered their alleys once but found none I could trust,
And now we look upon each other with some mutual disgust.
The world through my window is cold, tired and cruel.
Many of those rats say I'm crazy, but I'm no fool.
I've seen a man drive a dagger into his lover's heart,
Lust and jealously that tears brothers apart.
I've seen a monster lurk behind a red painted smile,
Disease that spoils a beautiful country mile.
And I rather stay terminally trapped in my own demon's shell
Than go out into that night and mingle with all of Hell.
My mind is a series of forgotten tombs,
A dark, dank place where madness looms.
Like a handful of worms my thoughts wriggle 'round,
Moving so beautifully to that darkwave sound.
And horror lives in the cockles of my heart,
Murky black blood in which I compose my art.
You can dip in your pen and see what comes out,
A treacherous tale of terror, no doubt.
Misery is always balancing on the tip of my tongue,
The dirge of an angel just waiting to be sung.
My voice is ridden with such well-worn sorrow
That many near doubt I'll live to see the morrow.
Then the sinister something that hides in my bones,
So dreadful it could wake the dead with its moans.
The Devil, a demon, perhaps even a vengeful ghost,
A spectre from beyond using me as its host.
Many may see this as some horrid curse,
But to be rid of it would only be for the worse.
Without these macabre things buried deep in my soul,
I'd only be part of an otherwise contented whole.