Always assumed to be the villain,
Lingering in the shadows of a crooked path.
Am I misunderstood? Or is it just my destiny—
To be the star of my own one-man show? Isn’t it funny?

The irony is, promises were made.
Friendships did indeed fade.
But I am here, still at the restaurant,
Sitting in the corner I haunt.

A ghost of Christmas past,
Watching time slip through the cracks.
Thinking of the roads I never took,
And the weight of the past on my back.

Is redemption just a wishful dream?
Or a fate already cast?
I sit at the restaurant and I wonder-
When The Prophecy changes at last.

My knuckles bruised, they’re violet,
My heart broken, it was once so scarlet.
I waived the white flag just for you to tear it apart,
I knew it was just the start.

Of Bloodshed, Crimson Clover,
Our dream was over,
You said forever.
But then you smashed it up.
Hatred spills over our sacred love.

Our malice intertwined,
Truth drowns deep in glasses of wine.
Maroon red is it love or is it hate,
Or was this eventually our fate.

Did Eve truly fall to temptation?
Or was Adam the source of manipulation?
Tilting the tale, shifting the blame,
A narrative forged to shield his name.

Was it Adam who conjured the snake?
A plot to see Eve’s freedom break?
Bound to home, she is confined,
A life of serving cruelly designed.

She serves him meals, her dreams erased,
She is subdued, her purpose displaced.
Her light dimmed, her laughter restrained,
A life once hers, now cruelly chained.

Was there truly a serpent’s hiss?
Or Adam’s scheme beneath all this?
Will he repent, will truth ever prevail,
Or will his story forever be under a dark veil?

Will Eve ever find her own way,
Or live in Adam’s shadow, day by day?
Confined is her will, but not her desires.
With enough will, she will burn bright like fire.
She is a phoenix, born from its ashes
She will definitely be free from Adam’s latches.

He voice will be heard, her truth will be shared
She will re-write history, her presence declared
She will have it all that she had left
But will her soul still feel bereft?

Holding on to the memories like a lifeline
Preventing me from the downfall to reality
This is the last strand of my sanity.

From the bright warm fields of babylon
I descend into the depths of the ocean.
Cold and frigid
Lifeless and sad.
Am I allowed to be mad?

A Heart snatched
Feelings still attached
My Mood trashed
For what?
Nothing.
Am I really guilty as sin?
Or is it just me
Forever falling short
Forever never enough.

From afar, I see what looks like paradise—
Is this why I paid the price?
I endured hurricanes, rainstorms, and floods;
Yet nothing, I find, is thicker than blood.

As I approach the garden,
The waterfalls turn black,
Roses wilt,
Bushes burn,
Sand dunes lie unturned.

Still, it draws me—
Like a moth to the flame,
Like a bee to the flower.

I reach for a rose,
To admire its pose,
But scarlet-red blood ****** through my fingers,
Staining my white shirt.

Is this death—or rebirth?