In the darkness of the night
I see her body rise.
My ears pick up a faint noise
as I hear the townfolks cries.
I steal the blade of my sword
and don my trusty cloak.
Hoping that the former
will not find any blood to soak.
But all through the night,
I hear the banshee's cries.
But she'll be the only one screaming
for she's my sword's bride.
This song hasn’t been worth picking up in 42 days,
and I’m giving in.
I’ve lived in my head all my life,
I had feared all my words had run dry.
But I felt in my mind
That all I tried to repress
Only comes back to me in waves,
And now i’m drowning and depressed.
So i’m opening up
And feeling, emotions are misleading.
I rioted for so long
I forgot my own name
This is a peaceful protest,
Indirect, i confess,
I sincerely miss disinterest.
Make the most of it they say,
As if that’s not
What we’re already trying to do
Though definitions vary between late
Evenings and impending sunrise,
Watch night sky glisten with match
Sticks striking skin, a glimmer of pointillism
Find our way home by connecting the dots
Taking time holding onto consequence of being
Together under assumption that if these eyes
Never close dawn can never come
But it does and how sweetly significant it is
That the day can end in reverie against such
Sullen cries of waning innocence
Pulled awake with thick honey beams
Shrugged off residual suppositions
Lingering still a soft pot of moral support ready
To mitigate existential insecurity waits eagerly
In the kitchen or outside painted as neoteric
Portraits of wash-town forests
Take a break decide course of action
Stretch and listen leaves whisper hymnals
For the day’s intent, sing along
A chorus of vibrant arrangement
To run or wander is always
The question the Great Mother Moon asks,
To rest or mend is what’s requested when
Our eyes open, revealing again an opportunity
To repeat or start anew
It's dark; in the middle of the night;
And I feel the silence teaching me lessons;
Reminding me of who i was and what I am;
And how with every passing dusk a part of me changed;
Of the things left and the people gone;
And some beautiful days playing in my head like a happy song;
Of how when I thought I couldn't survive but I did;
All the times I thought I was weak;
But here I am today; stronger and better;
Yet so much to learn;
I let the calm heal my broken heart;
Let the sorrow sink in the darkness;
Find myself in the middle of nothing; my eyes dry; I wonder why?
Tears betray but the breath turns heavy;
And I realize; I am growing.
So I pat myself; after this tiny accomplishment; if that's what they call it;
Ready to loose my present self to the past;
So patiently now; I lay my back straight over my messy cot;
And wait for the Rays; wait for the dawn.
The words that want to leave these lips
are the words, "I hate you!"
But I know that will all my might,
I can't muster up the courage to say that.
So instead, my weak voice will say,
"I love you"
because my heart still holds on
even if my brain says not to.
Late at night
you can hear the lovers talk.
They speak ever so softly,
and touch ever so gently,
and the crisp crackling air
blows in from the window,
for the lovers knew things
would get sultry quickly.
And soon the late night lovers
do the tango under their
twisted sheets and twisted minds.
The intense stare from
one to the other
soothes their souls.
With bodies apart but still together,
they take quick, hurried breaths,
trying to keep quiet.
The woman downstairs,
who couldn't be more annoyed,
complained twice already that day.
And finally, the lovers rest.
And one puts her hand on his chest,
hoping to remember his heartbeat
for the rest of her life.
And the other lover runs his hand
through her slightly rough hair.
He thinks back to earlier in the day,
when it had been nice and smooth.
But the love rendezvous they had
made it into a simple disarray.
The lovers fall fast asleep,
with nothing but their love to keep.
Safe and sound in the other's arms;
safe from hurt, safe from harm.
Their heartbeats synchronize,
and their gentle snores harmonize.
And in the morning, when they awake,
they will realize it was just a pipe dream.
They will awake in pure heartache.
And though the chance was missed,
in a dream, they were in complete bliss.
Today I fought to not
crack under the pressure.
Tonight, I'm feeling unimportant.
Sitting in the car in darkness,
counting the rain drops
as they fall from the endless sky.
It was right then I realized
something I could relate to.
This feeling that dwells in me
could easily be compared
to the insignificance
of one rain drop
in a long thunderstorm.
I give up the crown I've been wearing
Shifting my chin up high though it's a bit light
Spreading my hands wide just to cover sight
I rather be a tree rather than a Queen tonight
Swaying my wings through the wind quietly
Dancing with the darkness in the pale moonlight
I picture myself swimming across the sea
Got full of my own tears as a company
Serving those eyes a show as you can see
I was the bringer of dawn, pulling the sun
into the sky and allowing my constellation
to fade before His light. I leant against
the edge of darkness and stood, for a moment,
amongst the bright white of Heaven's Throne, deep
chasms of blue circling my feet.
I was the greatest of them all,
He made me the greatest of them all. I
was a prince, the lord of the air. Now,
I am nothing. The shining one, light bearer;
sent to epitomise darkness and evil.
My wings have been blackened by soot and clogged
by smoke - they will never fly again.
I will never see the sun or be free
amongst the stars once more, pushing the sky
around the Earth. I will never feel His
approving hand on my shoulder or resting
on my head. He cast me away as if
I was nothing and cut my hair from my head,
replacing flaxen curls with horns of blackened bone.
The Devil, they call me. The slanderer
who was hurled from heaven to hell. I see myself
in pools of despair: is this who I have become?
Where did the man who shook the earth
with the beat of his wings and make whole countries
tremble go? I made the world a wilderness
and now I'm gone it has been cultivated
into a dull plain of melancholy.
I am nothing without the white brightness
of the night's sky, I was son
of the morning. Venus was my head,
the morning star my heart.
Now, my constellation lies in the ashes
of soul fire because of my foolish pride and envy.