My soul rests amongst whispers and phoenix feathers,
I pirouette upon mellifluous petals;
My locks weave into sun-kissed cobwebs-
On a crepuscular moon my head does rest.
I chant lullabies with God's own angels,
And soar through streaks of ivory ocean;
My heart embraces minute wings-
I bedeck a dress of finest gossamer.
For a canvas I use the melodic night,
Whilst the smiling stars my paint;
And the alternative for ink is my laughter-
Of which I inscribe onto delicate parchment.
From my necklace dangles a thousand songs,
Within my eyes lock orbs of glitter;
And my mind is free to fly with the doves-
A diamond tiara is perched on my hair.
Dulcet dreams are conjured from these.
My soul battles a war with the devil,
I perform a dance upon a bed of nails;
Merciless hair twists round my neck-
Ebony beasts spy me in my slumber.
My refrain is released as a scream,
I glide up to zenith then plummet;
And my heart shrivels up to hide-
My outfit is creased with fear and smoke.
My ripped canvas is the rain-slashed hell,
My own blood comes in use for paint;
The sweet poison seeping from my heart is ink-
Engraved into my lucid flesh.
The tunes lie shattered at my feet,
My eyes clouded with tales of the voiceless;
The mind is trapped within a cage-
Surrounding my head is a crown of thorns.
Wicked nightmares are created from these.
Dec 14, 2013
Dec 14, 2013 at 11:18 AM UTC
My soul rests amongst whispers and phoenix feathers,
I pirouette upon mellifluous petals;
My locks weave into sun-kissed cobwebs-
On a crepuscular moon my head does rest.
I chant lullabies with God's own angels,
And soar through streaks of ivory ocean;
My heart embraces minute wings-
I bedeck a dress of finest gossamer.
For a canvas I use the melodic night,
Whilst the smiling stars my paint;
And the alternative for ink is my laughter-
Of which I inscribe onto delicate parchment.
From my necklace dangles a thousand songs,
Within my eyes lock orbs of glitter;
And my mind is free to fly with the doves-
A diamond tiara is perched on my hair.
Dulcet dreams are conjured from these.
My soul battles a war with the devil,
I perform a dance upon a bed of nails;
Merciless hair twists round my neck-
Ebony beasts spy me in my slumber.
My refrain is released as a scream,
I glide up to zenith then plummet;
And my heart shrivels up to hide-
My outfit is creased with fear and smoke.
My ripped canvas is the rain-slashed hell,
My own blood comes in use for paint;
The sweet poison seeping from my heart is ink-
Engraved into my lucid flesh.
The tunes lie shattered at my feet,
My eyes clouded with tales of the voiceless;
The mind is trapped within a cage-
Surrounding my head is a crown of thorns.
Wicked nightmares are created from these.