I am the black and white.
All the violence that exists.
The fight in you, or flight of them.

The heat that blood implied.

So never did I think my hate,
would fashion itself well.
Shake me with my soul to slip,
to loose let claret drip.

That kept within a box,
with transparent chains.
Fixed to glassy walls,
hitched with failing reins.

Is my own eye through wich I see
rebirth upon repass.

For this anger does ablige.
This tunnel of no light.
With not a chance i find thee love
As darkness does amass

For pity has not voice in me.
Quarrel or appall.
The child has now gone away,
So up and down i fall.


For If I choose want of greed
The better unto me.
And time much better spent
With all such reapings heed.

So is it then a soul undone?
Most do find it bent.

"my own will'', my choosing time!
With furies made to vent.


thoses yearning  hearts will never do.

They will often sink.

Slink away with time,
And dance to there own tune.

"So Would I then find thee well"?
After this our play.
Wish thee hell and hope again
We meet another day

so to then, you never find
a broken  warreng heart
Will  i find, ii put my hate
Black as coal and unforgiving,
Indistructable.

The thought of you,
The good with flaw,

The me who cannot stay.

Is not the man I wish to be,
And ever cast away.