Until my voice shrivels up,
Until what breaks me is induced to make me,
Until I find gratitude in discomfort,
Until there is a cease to this fuel
cursed to burn forever,
In envy and greed,
Until a salivation is unearthed,
Until the trees dance and harmonize to my broken tune,
Until hope is found,
Until I am not a mere whisper that dies on the tongue,
Until in all hope lost a purpose is found ,
Until I no longer wish to die in solitude,
Until I question the reason to sing this medieval tale,
Until I halt and shatter and melt away,
I must sing this ancient song.

I want to love,
So I can prove that
I am not completely lost,
In the hurdles of time,
And that there is a heart,
If not for me,
I wish for it to beat for the existence of another,
So my being can find a purpose,
I am in a a state of constant desperation,
To learn and to be learnt,
By heart,
So that I am never forgotten,
So that I may linger without consequences.

How good and awarding is the destructive truth that runs through my very flesh?
Is it any better than my sins?
Both an abyss of disturbance,
For neither can be perceived as a saint,
Nor a Satanist,
Obfuscated I turn to skies,
For my heart is breaking because it relies on the futility of my nature
But i can't find the answer

It's frantic but soothing,
Romantic but brooding,
The Whispers of the sky that whirl the clouds,
Whisp within the broken hearts,
Profound melancholy,
Our yearns,
The perpetually tragic night earns,
Thus the moon shys away,
Bribing the clouds to have it's say,
The clouds form the quit to free the moon from its guilt,
Hiding it away,
But I hope to see the moon as clear as sun,
Who knows it's worshipped,
Spilled into words of praise,
Whilst the moon sighs in envy,
Eluding jealousy a tale so refined,
Forged within sorrows it steals the light,
Wishing for the sun to set so it can have it's rise,

My heart is breaking because it relies on the futility of my nature,
I fear,
My nature's rigidness to accept oblivion,
Will cause me to loose something very dear,
How long should I run knowing that I'll be caught?,
In my own tragic tale and the borders of my mind,
What I have become is my biggest failure,
I cannot support myself,
Neither do I wish myself well,
Until embraced by tides of warmth,
That have yet to approach,
As what simmers in the ocean of memories is beyond my control,
And helplessly I continue to cherish that one memory of warmth.

If living life is a duty,
I have failed miserably in carrying it out,
Like a warrior with no courage at heart,
The sight unseen leaves me with a wish to depart,
I reside on a battlefield,
Petrified for my life,
Alas,
The idea of survival seems more enticing than success,
I am living perfectly the life you wish for me to live,
Like a soldier on A battle with themselves,
But if I accept it's your triumph,
But I don't value me enough to struggle,
For myself,

I overpour with secrets of myraid temptations,
So foul it would make one's mind sway,
And simmer satans glee,
So raw,
They associate blood with lust,
And flesh and skin as an element of desire and worship,
So menacing yet delightful,
Pleasure that Involves both the extremes,
A symphony of constant humiliation,
On his knees shall he reside,
Begging to unearth more of the pleasure,
It's permanent reminder on his body shall remain,
In the form of a scar,
Reminding him of the pleasure and pain,