I prepared my abode,
Something lacking "home,"
I heard that it could happen,
My imagination took to roam.
I twined the oaks, reinforced with pines,
I housed the oats for the horses' fine,
In hindsight, I built a shelter
Much more worth my time.
You found me scarred and weary,
Out of the woodwork you seem to have came,
Your face that lit my darkest nights,
The eyes that killed the "same."
I just wish I could've seen,
God, if this storm would never come...
Complacency left me haunted
By the void, darkened by your absence,
The rain even seemed to avoid,
The garden we had cast as
A symbol of growth rather than destruction.
I felt it in my heart,
That everything would be lost,
I saw the lighting strike
And contend with your ghost,
The thunder rang as gunshots
Piercing my ringing ears,
And the clouds above like bloodclots,
The frigid wind allied my fears.
Blow, tempest, blow,
Carry me away from this,
The sordid scene like gallows
Hanging my chance to kiss,
The freezing lips that once warmed my being,
I couldn't help but notice seeing,
At where the Eye did pass atop,
All went quiet, to a pin drop,
In the distance I heard the clap,
The anger of God's voice,
How heavily He spat,
And the storm with all it's power and wail,
Did ****, bereave me of my nightingale.