Chasing dreams tied to a paper kite, in flight on fire and outta sight
To light the way for the specters in the night, who march to the dirge, your funeral rite
While emanating above will be a shadow dressed in blood watching his soul dissipate into dust
His choler rises, till heart is fit to bust
Have caution, don’t fall prey to the charms of battle’s lust
For he who draws his sword in anger shall find his steel has turned to rust
But that burning rage lingers captivating a vacant touch
Ignited the blade swings ending with an unforgiving ******
Forcing flesh to paint the canvas with an uncanny brush