i think that’s another thing the goth population goes for…if they can make one person stare at them with mouth gaping open then theyve done their job for the day. blah blah blah.
Blood splattered on sheets once so pale
droplets of blood upon the floor
tears that cry but never fall
the sing of the blade doth tell all.
A broken soul crying out
upon deaf ears they do land
suffering alone this cruel fate
that not even pain can abate
A life ended by violent means
shattered, broken, endlessly
A final whisper, spoken and then fads
“The Chronicles of a razorblade”
Broken bonds of coven ties
Destroyed lifes, perished lies
underground midnight flights
a war that rages away from light.
Immortal power, Immortal sin,
A life of distain, a darkness within.
A soul inhabited by diablic black,
a million things that cannot be taken back.
A ground stained with human blood.
A face of horror covered in mud.
To fear that which you’ve become
To relive the sluaghter that’s been done.
To live in hate, from sunlight banned,
A cross’s touch forever damned.
A once blurred image in broken glass
forever gone from a soul that did not last.
The diabolical rapture, the sacrifise of love,
The wait for your dark master, ever beloved.
A river of tears, unable to cry,
and the one thing you want most…
the abilty to die.
Leaping flames of hearts desires,
burning ashes from intense fires.
Weeping sparks from funeral pyres,
and the need for love becoming dire.
The old clock striking midnight tune,
amongest red roses in full bloom.
Echoing sounds of a faceless doom,
vanish in the light of the full evening moon.
A whiff of lavendor, a hint of lace,
the unmistakable stawberry taste.
Velvet hair and a whitewashed face,
laughter erupting throughout this place.
Holy water, a crusifix about the breast,
blood rushing down upon the chest.
Still laughing as though a joyest fest,
death soon becomes an unwelcomed guest.
A beauty to weak for the fight,
the vampire turns to take flight.
My dark prince vanishes from my sight,
and I lay still in dying light.
of course they do it for shock value. the goths i have ever known were the “look at me. my life sucks. my blood is black and my soul is wounded from the abyss of…” the boys dressed as girls, the girls dressed like zombies… well they all dressed as zombies. they thought they were so different because they wrote painful boring poetry, or had a journal, never smiled, or wore long sleeve shirts in the summer to hide cut marks on their arms. if they only took the time to talk to different people they would have realized that the jocks, the nerds, the preps,whatever, had the same fears and hopes as they do. i guess you can’t get attention that way though.
I hate misconceptions. This isn’t goth. This is a bunch of high school kids who need to have their heads checked. Goth is about soul, not about shock value or attention or whatever. Marilyn Manson isn’t even a goth. He’s a shock rocker, which is why he does the things he does. That’s what you’ve mistaken for Goth. It’s like Goth, but it’s only skin deep.