The playground of the tragedy and comedy echoes through the mind of the preternatural ones,
bound for time to certain roles and certain lies
but Devil or Angel which ?
And the mask goes deeper.
The storm comes with her starving glory.
And neither man nor creature shall know the difference of the dark and the light,
the crimson in our frail reflection, takes us all but who will wear the mask ?
Oct 21, 2015
Oct 21, 2015 at 8:43 AM UTC
The playground of the tragedy and comedy echoes through the mind of the preternatural ones,
bound for time to certain roles and certain lies
but Devil or Angel which ?
And the mask goes deeper.
The storm comes with her starving glory.
And neither man nor creature shall know the difference of the dark and the light,
the crimson in our frail reflection, takes us all but who will wear the mask ?
