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A twisted fairytale Curse the knowledge of what I truly have done to these women. Pieces. They are pieces. Picked apart by the crows, we are. The tears shed for what I did to the lonely heart of gold, that only desired to be held, will create the ocean that drowns me, on day. Men are the weaker sex. With the key word being sex. We try, only too hard, to please our own sexual desires, that we are crippled. Her heart will only see the climax of my body, and my body will only see the climax of her heart, full of love to give. But none received, makes the soul a tired, ravaged, being. Raped by the thought of a knight in shining armor. Males, such as I; we are worse than the monster under the bed, lying in wait, to frighten children. We are the more audacious of the breed. We are the monster that lay in the bed of lies, with her. We scare her, but she has grown, through media, stories, and the evolving world of "right now" that, you are supposed to be scared of what is to come. Little did she know, the man who would care for her was desperately trying to find his way in. But the allure of terror, and sin, beat him before the fight started. The classic tale, twisted, into an unhappy ending, again and again.

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Topic

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fictional	FriendshipPoetry	goodbyepoetry
Grief	group	Haiku
hbadday	Holiday Poetry	HumorPoetry
insomniac	InspirationalPoems	InternetLove
limericks	LostLove	LovePoetry
LoveRemembered	MiscPoems	MothersDayPoems
mythology	NaturePoetry	news
Nostalgic	obsession	oops
PetPoems	PoemsonBeauty	poets
political	psychoticpoems	SadPoetry
schoolproblems	scifi	SecretLove
secrets	self-harmpoetry	selfstruggles
SpecialOccassion	spiritual	StoryPoetry
Suicide	surreal	Test Topic
toughstuff	Tributes	war

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Authors Notes

Poem Text (html)
DO NOT remove the line break <br /> html coding at the end of each line break, these are needed to form the correct lines.

Curse the knowledge of what I truly have done to these women. Pieces. They are pieces. Picked apart by the crows, we are. The tears shed for what I did to the lonely heart of gold, that only desired to be held, will create the ocean that drowns me, on day. Men are the weaker sex. With the key word being sex. We try, only too hard, to please our own sexual desires, that we are crippled. Her heart will only see the climax of my body, and my body will only see the climax of her heart, full of love to give. But none received, makes the soul a tired, ravaged, being. Raped by the thought of a knight in shining armor. Males, such as I; we are worse than the monster under the bed, lying in wait, to frighten children. We are the more audacious of the breed. We are the monster that lay in the bed of lies, with her. We scare her, but she has grown, through media, stories, and the evolving world of "right now" that, you are supposed to be scared of what is to come. Little did she know, the man who would care for her was desperately trying to find his way in. But the allure of terror, and sin, beat him before the fight started. The classic tale, twisted, into an unhappy ending, again and again.

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