My Melody was a prodigy.
At least that’s what they told her.
“You’re so smart, you’ll achieve anything you set your mind to!”
And she knew that’s what she was gonna do.

My Melody did achieve great things.
After all, that’s what she set out to do.
But little did My Melody know, that life is not all that simple,
Because life was a thin paper that can easily crinkle.

My Melody stopped as easily as she started.
Her confidence shattering and doubt started pouring in.
Were the stories lacking in honesty?
Or was My Melody just a self-fulfilling prophecy?

Powered matter leaves their origin,
Into a land in the distance,
Residing in the hearts of children
Offering everything but resistance,
Exchanging life and his riches
For the taste of blood in their kisses.

A child is a sacrifice
For what is right
In the prophet’s eyes
And minds that are blind
To the lies that bind
His cries and surmise-s.
The prophet’s prophecy
Is to gain profit from gases
More flammable that propane.
His fingers, crossed and lost,
His veins, lost its blue,
His skin, has turns chartreuse
With the sight of the new moon.

A new dawn begins
With the same sun,
Covered by new clouds.
Sounds of the innocent,
Muffled by the lead they’re
Buried in.
Their fears of growth
Disappear with their sight.
But it’s alright,
It’s in the name of Liberty,
Currency, and Democracy.

The gentle bite of the stars reflected in the night sea.

Holding my gaze, and holding me fast to my vision,

So that I need never know the difference,

Between your eyes and the light of day.

Turn not away from me, but into me.

So that we might savor the entwining heat of our embrace.

But if you must leave me, know this;

That I shall surely fall into the depths of that same sea,

To perish, still contemplating the wonders of you.

That I should remain, still, beneath such turbulent waters,

Eternally reflecting a love further than the stars,

It would be the sweetest rest,

Suspended in the deepest sorrow.