There's a shiver to your chant,
Conjurations of crimson
Upon lavatory white,
A sacrifice bleeding onto the pages
Of an ill-timed letter.
And I want to scream,
Shatter moonlight with
The decibels of helplessness,
Turn away from your ritual,
Flee from your sad dance.
But I know if I shudder now
I shall empower the
Demon of the final glyph,
And all I have ever
Needed and wanted
Shall fade into the illusions
Of what isn't but might have been.
So come into these arms, my heart
And cease this song of power.
Misstride your grave ballet,
Waltz instead of conjure,
And weave of crimson
Nevermore.
