Mist
Mirrages surrounded the chapel,
Could hardly see my own hands.
Six saints gathered their worship.
Five sinners screamed out their end.
Lost figures danced to a concerto of night,
That creatures' damned with such sweet melodies.
Forever, I could stand as waiter for those futures.
Perfection could only bring me lower.
Close umong the decay I collapse,
The thorned forest floor captures my fall in pain,
Once again, she awaits me with such sepulchre smile.
To pull me close umong the dances of dead.
No truth could be answerred, in vorms of true beauty.
However the night that she died, with the forest as shellter.
Enwarmed my soul forever, with such dark beauty,
To forever doubt my sanity, over and over again...
The burning down of a respectless creation.
How could man be stupidious to build,
A curse to hisself, in hope for his saviour.
Faults and lies oppose me again.
My flames are calling, her second death waits.
A tormention never gave me such pleasure,
That lies never gave me more of truth,
The curse of being I endure
__________________
Strong enough to live by the sword
|