I:
You are journeying the trials of time,
Constant reveries caught in your eye,
Another beloved had dropped the dime,
You were in hiding, you’d always been shy,
Despaired and collected to say goodbye,
Eternal ghosts waiting for you to see,
In Blood revenge your desires will die,
Blacken your entity as a gargoyle for me.

You are weeping for greats of sunshine,
Even the pales by North heard the cry,
Humbled now of the soulless grime,
Beacon man waits for you to come by,
Sentiments like snakes parish and lie,
As the divinity holds you and let’s you be,
The plane of your yearning will make you sigh,
Blacken your entity as a gargoyle for me.

You are seeking to patiently climb,
The dearest peaks among all the high,
Clutch the stones of the merciless crime,
Conceal it and see it peal and pry,
And give way your thoughts you cannot deny,
Send them your love as you will never be free,
Glare at the sparrow of dawn in the sky,
Blacken your entity as a gargoyle for me.
All of these years you tearfully asked why,
With a rod on your brow and a letter by your knee,
Its fold on your skin with a mock on your thigh,
Blacken your entity as a gargoyle for me.

II:
So many dreadful years have passed,
You were always my precious little child,
I will seek out your every demon a last.

Your imaginations had run ever so wild,
You were caught in a bout of ambition,
Though glad your delusions were mild.

I was there to see your eerie transition,
And though it did hurt me all around,
I am certain it was always your decision.

Long faces glare as you fall to the ground,
Dark ambience awaits with you in pain,
All that is too far gone cannot be found.

Despair red like blood begins to rain,
Tragedies as such are difficult to feign.

III:
Alone at night I sense this kind of kink,
Try to reconcile what have I may done,
Or I have come to find my time’s begun,
Letters fall beneath me as if I’m dead.

I cannot be at peace and cannot think,
Evil calls my name to hide from the sun,
All of the matter expires so I run,
Past the king of mires quickly to my bed.

So I may give myself an honest choice,
And with it I be gladly on my way,
To live as an imp or die with my soul,

Black rose immortal of a futile voice,
Palms with a clash of beauty and dismay,
Burrowing eternal ghosts down a hole.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s