I have often turned within my grave to ponder of the reason why
Upon the date of my birth, you took me to your secret hide

Underneath an aspen tree within the deadest of nights
You took to me like a moth to a ball of flickering light

With the devils own smile plastered upon your face and the slightest of hand
You produced a sanguineous jar of hearts and an ominous jar of black sand

You grasped my hands in your work enured and fairly calloused paws
Looked me in the eyes, and told me to forever leave my pale hands raw

"Never soil your untouched hands, your hands and eyes you shall avert'
"Never bruise, nor ever hurt, nor shall they be ever touched by dirt,

"Never touch a rose, nor touch a bee, as danger is an all you see,
"Close your eyes my little darling, and all of life shall be but a dream."

With the trust of a mothers child, I kept my eyes tightly squeezed
Wished upon the star within the midnight sky, wavering in the breeze

Held my hands up to my chest, hoping the fluttering and staggered slips
Not to be seen by your face within the light of moon as from the sun it dines and sips

Of a heart that had only once been given to me and should have forever stayed mine
But the greed inside all mens' hearts want, and reaches out to grasp a young new 'hind'

With another slight of those calloused hands, you took my life for your own pleasure
And stole what was rightfully derived as mine; a beating heart, you took your leisure

A working mind, once a clock, now fully had come to a skidding stop
You took my bones and my teeth and used them as a fertilizing crop

The very worst thing that you did, you took my pride when you took my skin
Shaved off clean with a diamond edged razor and worn as if you were mockeries twin

Burried underneath that beautiful aspen tree, I've been given the time to remold
But my life had been stolen, the soul forced out before the bells had tolled

In the time it had taken for my pieces to remold, I had realised something then and there;
There were always things that were meant to go untold, but the truth is ringing upon the open air

You wanted more than what was offered and had bitten off all you could chew
But if I'd known back then what I know now, I'd know real good men only come in few

To treat you as a goddess would be wrong,
To bend before you, worship and entreat
Of you a glance perhaps, or kiss your feet,
That I might stay here, that I might belong
To you. To treat you this way would be sick,
Perverse, unnatural, and might so inspire,
From holy virtue, some unkind desire;
A tender rose that, sprouting thorns, would *****
My senses. Still, my eyes do flitter down,
So overwhelmed with beauty, not enured
Yet to your looks, and though I am so sure
That praying thus will cause your smile to frown.
That, had enough, you'll tire of me one day,
My love is such, I'll worship anyway.

I was a soldier once,
and because of the time spent in that world
I thought I knew what suffering looked like.

I thought that because I have smelled death,
  and thrown away the bodies of innocents
like so many empty fruit rinds
  that I was enured to that hole in the earth.

How wrong I was to believe that such things were
the heart of that river

  the darkest I would stare upon,