A crown of thistles and thorns,
Worn as I walk through the Wasteland
Carrying my burdens and hope on my shoulders
The noon light and the twilight.
Step and another forward forever
Into my now broken journey ahead
Footing the edge of the final ledge
Final steps filled with regret —
Or could it be hope?
My Passion is dark from my view;
Somehow, I shine as a Beacon
To the hopeless and the desperate,
The hearts that are broken by fate.
String me up now before I destroy them all,
All along with myself, in my pain.
I was meant to be this way,
To die while I’m still pure.
My bitter victory makes you ever sweet.
Oct 22, 2012
Oct 22, 2012 at 3:19 PM UTC
A crown of thistles and thorns,
Worn as I walk through the Wasteland
Carrying my burdens and hope on my shoulders
The noon light and the twilight.
Step and another forward forever
Into my now broken journey ahead
Footing the edge of the final ledge
Final steps filled with regret —
Or could it be hope?
My Passion is dark from my view;
Somehow, I shine as a Beacon
To the hopeless and the desperate,
The hearts that are broken by fate.
String me up now before I destroy them all,
All along with myself, in my pain.
I was meant to be this way,
To die while I’m still pure.
My bitter victory makes you ever sweet.
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