Allow me to enumerate, subjugate and demonstrate.
To those parts of you which hold doubt.
But first, I must abdicate, on how your words agitate,
all the parts of me which act out.

You talk about eternity, the ageless infinity
But your precocity holds you like a vice in its grip.
You hold its hair back, like girls in sorority.
Desperate to keep it making the slightest of slips.

Don't ask for reason, is there ever any worth hearing?
I can tell you "you're beautiful, with a personality to boot."
But does that really make my words any more endearing?
For me, that is something that your self must refute.

If you had telepathy your thoughts would be a mess.
Sorting out the messages, from thoughts I can't suppress.
Enabling my addiction to your body and your soul.
You would watch my mind, as infatuation takes control.

Faith I have in abundance, in people not in gods.
Charon can take all his coins, and I will take those odds.
I approach with uncertainty. and offer it candidly.
My love is yours to take, don't take it offhandedly.

In this dungeon I have built,
I question all my thoughts.
As my body comes to wilt,
my mind has yet to rot.
Which is why that I contrive to sell the world my soul,
I know that they don't need it,
but still I play the role.
So long have I looked out these bars which tether me,
with guilt I never had,
by thoughts I never see.
But I will serve my penance
Justice must be served.
Just leave me with the remnants,
life that I reserved.
I can't decipher what I mean,
I try to raise my tone.
At first, I thought, I am unseen,
Instead, I am alone.
But darkness is not unusual,
in the dungeon I am held.
The silence is rather usable,
and through it I am compelled.

Too long have lived,
both, Mother Earth and Father time.
Welcome with me,
Sister Blood and Brother Sublime.
Both kindred spirits without sign.
Still, pilgrims held among divine.

A sister is known as soft and sweet.
Effeminate, and often petite.
But Sister Blood holds no such ties.
Her body lays beyond your eyes.
Her spirit often fills your soul.
Her ways take dark and martial tolls.

Brother Sublime might tell you lies.
His heart is pure despite disguise.
The only aim, to see your smile.
Achievements hardly worth his guile.
Perverse or not, our Brother is true.
Alas, he is here because of you.

Stay your applause,
for them it's not needed.
Their power grows,
as their names are seeded.

Where smoke and fire scar a scene we've lost to history.
Comrades leave the corpses, those naive to victory.
"But armor does not tire, even hanging onto bone."
Those ragged men recite this creed, when they die alone.

Leaders speak of fate and fear to hopeful crowds of eyes.
"No one makes the tacit choice of death without reprise."
Solace leaves the hearts of those wise enough to know
awful sights, which wait out there, and its audio.
"Can you hear the thunder of a thousand steel boots?
Will you heed the call of gods from armored metal suits?"

Iron plates and sundered fates rest the minds of men.
Even though they never know how it starts again.
Irrelevant as it's all become,
death never breaks with morning's sun.
Below white clouds, hear the tantrum drum,
the stinking sound of melee begun.