The plumage of eternal sin
wherein the magnitude of all
aghast and umbrage black
should lie upon
the loft of casting's sorrow

An empty locket
shedded promises
gold now worn as jaded copper
faded through the gilded clasps
And ever noire, to your reflection

Press within
The mirror, more to hold
The soul of songs you've lost
To setting frost of vague emotions

There is no picturesque
In somnolence and rotting
So dispense of what's forgotten
Reinvigorate your urge besot

You are nought and augur
Yours are liminal and soft
Solace brimming signals
To alliance of the
Prescient