waiting for word from the Sun, in a sentence of night, which is so ruthless and told who and what is so wrong on this world we die on.
come down, oh, Sun. So that I may feel your warm embrace, so that I may enlighten the brighter reflective truth, I mirrored from your greatness, away from the dark family lies spread by self-righteous rotten eyes and ears. Holding on to modesty trying not to **** for the murdered cousin inside, all while I am painted but villian of night.
My vengeance will taste of kindness.
There's a lot of power in not doing what someone knows you are capable of.
I dreamt of you in lonely Mantua. Outside my door as I had seen you once before. Your aura slowly leaking through my home's walls filling the air in a loving daze- I stirred up in its steamy cloud. Outside I went, outside I saw your smile. I thought you may have saw me shake like I was a beat mutt. My gooey wound opened upon meeting your eyes- the love is stupidly perserverent. Then as fast as you came, without word, without embrace, slowly you set, oh Sun. With magnificent glory of death of day; a hot angry summer's day. Down flights of stairs where you escaped the Moon's pull.
A dream come dead in Mantua. Banished from the brightly sky's domain, I light the night sky, the nightly earth, in turn- in steed to show those in darkness of night there can still be light past these cyclical dying days.