Crumbling stone towers
And withering flowers
Stormy skies
Breaking my trust with all their lies
Racing through the Forum roads
With every breathing second breaking their code
Codes of ruling and giving
And living and loving
Black shadows with silvery daggers
Around my crimson lover, who staggers
His golden laurel crown
Clashes and clangs as it falls to the ground
How many throats have they slit?
Or poisons given?
Or pushed strong men past the bounds of heaven?
To dark and shadowy and desolate lands
Where light flys fleeting from open hands
It pains me now as I hear him scream
With an unearthliness that sounds like a dream
A horrible dream where things are
Nothing as they seem
His beautiful starry purple robes
Fall between the Tiber and a thorny rose
Yet somehow even as I see them make their mark
I believe in nothing but the beating of his heart
Sep 30, 2014
Sep 30, 2014 at 11:37 PM UTC
Crumbling stone towers
And withering flowers
Stormy skies
Breaking my trust with all their lies
Racing through the Forum roads
With every breathing second breaking their code
Codes of ruling and giving
And living and loving
Black shadows with silvery daggers
Around my crimson lover, who staggers
His golden laurel crown
Clashes and clangs as it falls to the ground
How many throats have they slit?
Or poisons given?
Or pushed strong men past the bounds of heaven?
To dark and shadowy and desolate lands
Where light flys fleeting from open hands
It pains me now as I hear him scream
With an unearthliness that sounds like a dream
A horrible dream where things are
Nothing as they seem
His beautiful starry purple robes
Fall between the Tiber and a thorny rose
Yet somehow even as I see them make their mark
I believe in nothing but the beating of his heart
eighth grade was very much a poetry driven year, apparently
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