Numbing Loss

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  • Dark Poetry
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  • Philosophy
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  • Emotional

    Numbing Loss

     Hatred so cold,Yet so comforting.
    Rage so Hot,Yet so blinding.
    Both all consuming and volatile,
    Leaving nothing behind in there wake.

    Lust so intense,yet so fleeting.
    Power so enticing,Yet so Pointless.
    What is the point of life when there is nothing but these.
    For when they are done you are left with nothing.
    Cold,Numbing,Everlasting nothing.
    Everything gone never to return.

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    Poetry is not a turning loose of emotion, but an escape from emotion.

    T. S. Eliot (1888-1965) American-English poet and playwright.

    Dementia’s Poems (8)

    Title Comments Submitted
    Title Comments Submitted
    Deceptive Beauty 0 11/29/2011
    Sensory Overload 0 11/29/2011
    Numbing Loss 0 11/29/2011
    Dark Abyss 0 01/22/2011
    Sanity 1 02/26/2009
    Definition of Pain 0 02/26/2009
    Finding the light 0 02/26/2009
    Love Abysmal 0 02/26/2009
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