Each court crowns a fool
Some wear it too well
I danced for his rule
Now I rot in his cell

A fool for the plot
He praised me in jest
But dead men still dance
When denied their rest

So I wait for a storm
To darken the land
Till cracks start to form
Beneath his command

Till the famine-worn tread
With their torches held high
To harvest the crumbs
Of a banquet denied

They carry my pain
In the heat of their cry
For the crown and the chain
And a kingdom awry

My cell starts to moan
As the ramparts collapse
They tear through the stone
And free me at last

I walk through the blaze
As the palace combusts
They gave me a stage
Now revenge I shall ******

He begged for his life
With tears on his cheek
I offered my knife
And let silence speak

No need for a trial
His crimes were well known
So I asked with a smile
Who had the last laugh

Someday I’ll be a watchmaker,
Who crafts the hands of time.
Shaped by steady labor,
Fulfilled by each design.

Someday I’ll meet the one who turns
My hours into gold.
Our time will tick — a flicker that burns,
With love both bright and bold.

Someday I’ll feel a happiness,
That keeps in step with time.
Each grain of sand falls into place,
As if each moment were mine.

Today I am no watchmaker,
The hours pass me by.
I hold no hands and give no time,
No joy remains inside.

But someday,
I'll make the time...

When red apple roses rise from my head,
Know that the earth has embraced me, now dead.
I'll rest where roots wrap my bones in the ground,
And bloom through my silence, no longer bound.

Their petals still whisper the things I once said;
In death, I will part with the cage of my heart.
So grieve in my garden, but know it’s my home,
For beauty will grow where my love ever roams.

Part I — Divine
The Mortal Speaks

Her rosy cheeks, her auburn hair,
Enchant the breeze with sweetness rare.
Apples and peaches, ripe on the vine,
Voluptuous grace in soft moonshine.
Evenings, like wine, drip from her lips,
Nectar no god or man dare sip.

Seldom does a star descend,
Eclipsed by longing none could mend.
Nearer she draws—divine, undone,
Tonight, I burn, one with the sun.

Part II — Carnal
The Goddess Speaks

How strange, this ache no god should feel,
Each glance from you—so raw, so real.
Love was a myth I sang in jest,
Lust, now a flame I can't contest.

Beneath my skin, a storm that calls,
Over my throne, temptation sprawls.
Untouched by fate, you bent the law—
Never to rise from passion’s thrall,
Deeper into hell’s flames I fall.

Enveloped by the fog
I take another step
Though where I'll go
I do not know
The path ahead's unclear

And every step I take
Reminds me of the last
Each passing year
Upon this earth
A time that's come and passed

In truth, I have a dream
To find a place called home
To feel secure
At where I stand
To cease my endless roam

My feet have long gone numb
They move instinctively
Devoid of shoes
Battered and bruised
No footprints left behind

In constant search of friends
My last one left too soon
She took two steps
To one of mine
And still she passed me by

Da-dum da-dum da-dum
My heart, I feel it beat
Heavy and cold
Broken in half
Perhaps it needs a change

My gaze falls on the moon
A drink to ease the pain
The light it shines
Into my eyes
Brings me to tears tonight

For half the night I lay
Awake and lost in thought
I feel confined
By wasted time
Yet sleep through half the day

Once the rain has passed
And sunshine is renewed
The muddy ground
Still slows me down
Each step a sinking tomb

I fear I've gone astray
Through many thorny paths
The countless scars
May never heal
I run but cannot hide

A ghoul is chasing me
It leads me to the grave
A lifeless place
My life's disgrace
A shell of who I am

A puppet hung from strings
Directed by my hands
I walk again
Into the fog
To find a distant land

I smile at the moon
My one and only friend
So far away
But always there
And will be 'til the end

Boredom
Nothing to do
Nothing to say
Nothing to feel
Its peaceful
It’s perfect
If only it didn’t feel so wrong
The yearn for excitement
Something to do
Something to say
Something to feel
It feels so right
If only it didn’t lead to a want to do nothing
A need for Boredom
Nothing to do
Nothing to say
Nothing to feel
And such the cycle goes on
And on
Forever longer

Falling, like autumn leaves,
Drifting through the air,
Guided by the wind,
In shades of red and yellow fair.
But as they touch the ground,
Their colors start to fade,
Turning brown and battered,
Before they pass away.
Beaten, tattered, and torn,
All hopes of happiness forlorn.