I stand in the shadows of the depressed without merit,
Death and decay fill my world with darkness,
None hath seen the wrath through mine eyes,
Humanity, so cold, so alone, so heartless...
For there are no endeavors to share with you,
Only hoping that there is solitude in death,
Void comes without the silence of broken dreams,
Blessed only by darkness of those laid to rest...
Passion a figment of the oppressed mainstream,
Condemned by their hate and wicked ways,
They hide behind society's daunting smiles,
None can see they are standing in gates to Hells blaze...
Nostalgic depression painted with taunt smirks,
That deliver the sense of evil and plastic doom,
Branches of the willow hold the key to escape,
Strangled by the existence of the mounting gloom...
Eternity stalks the imagination of those who cry,
Darkness martyred by the scars in their souls,
Illusion casts its angry shadows upon the masses,
Reality clutches the throats of those who know...
Dedication to the serpent an anomaly of the spirit,
Sanctioned by the manipulation of human existence,
Tethered from the branch like the veins from the heart,
The fit is perfection and will offer little resistance...
And as I take one final step, I close my eyes to their eternal world,
There are none so blind as those who cannot see,
Majestically silence overwhelms my thoughts,
As here I hang dead swinging from the branch in the willow tree...
And with one last breath and one last thought,
If only they would have listened...
