((This is my first time posting any of my poetry on here, and I must admit, I'm a bit nervous. Be kind ))


I Killed the World

Walking these empty streets;
The streets I worked so hard to own.
Hollow shells of homes;
Shattered by the bombs of my airplane.
Was the world to own;
Now it's mine, but I'm left alone.
My own dictatorship;
But no one to bow down to my feet.
The towns are still painted red;
Reminders of the ones I scattered on the ground.
Screaming haunts my dreams;
These ghosts still linger through the city walls.
Falling to my knees;
My God I killed the world for my ideals!
No more black or white;
What was not me, I shattered to the winds.
Walking my empty streets;
I killed the world out of my own greed.

The fires still burn;
Though the voices, like the bodies, now are still.
Fueled by my hatred;
Was only a race, but became the world.
And now here I stand;
On these streets of rotting, bleeding flesh;
Thought that I was right;
Validated through a chorus millions strong.
Watched the bullets rip;
Dropping life into the unknown mass graves.
War, it had no face;
Only purpose driven by a vengeful, bitter rage.
Fallen to my knees;
Blood was my last meal poisoned by my mind.
Not a bullet left;
I cursed myself these lonely, empty streets.
Thought I would bring Heaven;

I only created hell...and crowned myself the Heir.

it had such a gripping feeling of doom.
and it was all caused by you trying to suit the world to fit your own image...but intrying to accomplish this devestated evrything that could not be owned...and after all this catastrophy..you were left destroyed inside because of things that you could never change from the begining..

do i have it right?...

very gripping miss scinn.

this is why i love human nature..in all its forms

mmm...sort of. Originally this one came to me while CNN was on about a year ago >.< And I got to thinking, what if the dictators of the world had actually accomplished everything they thought they wanted to? Like say, Hitler or somebody. In the end, they'd end up destroying everything until there was nothing left but them...so I tried to put the emotions and thoughts into the poem as to how they would feel.

But family and friends that have read it all gave it very different interpretations, so I like hearing the different angles from other people...to see what they get from it when they read it.

I think that's my favorite thing about poetry, the same poem can mean so many different things to different people...and none of them are wrong. :)

very moving...
makes me think of the guys in Irag and the hope that we'll get them home and well.

ohh..forgive me i thought that this was a poem about what you were feeling like at the moment of its creation..i mean something in your personal life..


yes i agree...different people can see art..poetry..beauty in different ways....

but not so bad comming from a stranger assessment,,but im happy that this was in no way indicative of something that happened to you..or a particular feeling that you had about a suvject in your own personal life...

because it was very hard=hitting.

excellent poem miss scinn

Very moving,, I hope to read more of you in the near future

Welcome to the family