***This poem is more of a story then anything...

Cold
Alone...

Feed on anger, feed on souls!
Vent my feelings; torment roles...

***Okay, I know it might not be easily understood...

***This is a true story. It may not be my...
In fourth grade, the time was long...

The sweetness of the purest rose caresses my skin
The morning myst's goal, my love to win...

Carry on the wings of mystery
A ridden horse of futility...

This cancerous deed...I swallow...
In this dagger pain I wallow...

How to begin, My Love?
Blood will drip but not yet, you see...I must make...

What I love and what I know...what do you care...
no one's there, but I see a Shadow in the Wind, I...

I am falling through a hollow void of...
Falling...falling...

Submit a lie to the bowels of love...
...Where lust cannot be seen...