The weight of darkness
is something only the sun
can ever make light.

This prison is a place where darkness only breeds
and the shadows dance with themselves,
playing tricks on my eyes, darting quickly across the walls
only to vanish upon my focused gaze.

I once caught a glimpse of these hypnotic specters;
cruel machinations of tortured souls revealed themselves
to be nothing more than corrupted reflections of myself
wandering aimlessly through a hall of mirrors.

These rooms were once traversable,
but now this maze is more twisted than my own intentions;
unheeded, unnoticed and smiling, like a knife in the dark
waiting for an opportunity to quell any ambitions
that may lead to freedom.

Bravery is not a trait to be learned,
but a decision that's yet to be made.
When standing against overwhelming odds
there's good reason to be afraid,

but despair does not ensure cowardice
and adversity does not equal defeat.
Every man still has a fighting chance
as long as his heart still beats.

Be always valiant and forever fearless
against what others may forewarn,
because the decisions made amidst catastrophe
are also when heroes are born.

As I walk the streets of this old town
footsteps of the past are retraced;
though I look upon it with brand new eyes
every place still has your face.

The wind will always carry your voice,
words echoing on the breeze,
like whispers in the gathering dark
between the cemetery trees.

Fragmented memories of a tortured past
are just riddles without clues.
Haunted are these same old streets
by the apparitions of you.

You and I walked down the road
as lonely hearted friends
to find the way that leads to love
on the path where friendship ends.

We've always been desperate to share
the feelings never spoken out loud,
but our perfect sky is always filled
with the reluctance of broken clouds.

If the time had come for us to decide
which path would you choose?
Would you still just be feeling lost
or just too afraid to lose?

Some call me a saint,
others call me a hellion,
but at some point revolution
must progress to rebellion.

She stretched out across the bed,
her body curved in serpentine suggestion.
Seductive whispers, bedroom eyes
and the beckoning motion of her hand.

What sinister intentions are behind
this divine invitation to partake
in the pleasures of our flesh?