Could it ever be told again?
The endless stories of a city torn down.
Repeating a story of love and pain.
Multiples of slaves but one single crown.
Pictures of hypocritical angels on glass were stained.
Barely seeing through, a single boy with no name.

Screaming to who could hear.
The crumbled ruins below it all.
Silent, for the whole of the world, a single tear.
Ancient chasms he did crawl.
Seeing the past and what it did bear.
Something human with the name of God, yet chanting a Devil's prayer.

The moment could be called an illusion.
And the clock did conceal.
An opportunity for light given once;
But by a machine it did steal.
Infinite passages in all directions, broken clocks on walls.
And a phantasmal smile for the eternal Devil's deal.

The Demons were alive and still did crawl.