Betrayal is black
It smells like the ashes of burned hope
It tastes like poisoned fruit
It sounds like a raging war
It feels like falling into a serpents nest
It looks like the wreckage of a bright soul
Betrayal creates a thirst for revenge

Life is a Masquerade Ball,
People hide themselves behind masks,
A confusion of hidden faces, CHAOS,
Was it you?, Was it me?, Was it he?, WHO KNOWS!

A succession of colourful masks,
A sea of hidden identities,
All with mysterious dispositions, Who can you trust?
NO ONE!

Release a phantom from its cage,
To see behind the placid masks,
Sink into the sullen shadows,
Dissolve into the darkness.

All who risk immolation,
To save from you fading into the background,
They remove their masks,
And so it ends, the masquerade.

Rage is an eternal fire,
In the shadow of the night,
Rage whispers in my ear,
It sits and tells me all my enemies fears.

It's evil grin,
And askew mind,
It looks me in the eye,
And increases the darkness in my mind.

Rage leaves me aghast of the violent lashes I now have,
Rage acts with the mind of all sins,
When feeling disconsolate and empty,
Rage comes and takes it all away.

Rage is red haze,
It has no contrition,
When the sharp sword of rage goes down,
A blood-filled rain decends.

Rage is the army that surrounds my pain-filled mind,
And I am the commander!

I am but a rose thrown at a scorned lover,
Left heartbroken in the middle of the street,
It's petals falling and stem breaking
And it's beautiful colour fading.

My petals can never be restored,
Most have been lost,
Carried by the whispers of the wind,
Like peace,
I know that I will never be able to experience such a feeling again

I have been;
Stepped on,
Spit on,
Sweeped to the side,
And picked up

But I know that;
Those who step on me, get the sharp pain of my thornes
Those who spit on me, have an internal envy of my beauty,
Those who sweep me, the wind carries me back to the same place,
And those who try to reconstruct me, fulfil themselves with an impossible task, but I know those are my true friends, my greatest treasure, and my brightest hope.

"The mind is its own place, and in itself Can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven."
-John Milton, Paradise Lost