You have wings, but cannot fly.
You have eyes but cannot see...

Sorrow seems to follow you,
like a pack of widowed wolves...

Your words plow through my soul,
like raindrops pounding the windows...

Fog bleeds from the moon like ghost like tendrils,
Grasping at what they can't reach...

Sunlight creeps through the sky,
like poison overtaking its victim...

Twinkling, with a majestic beauty,
you kneel before shimmering emeralds...

In morning dew, this dove does fly,
taking drops of the rain from the sky...

Cheers to the death,
the death from inside of me...

Through clouds of dust,
with stinging eyes...

Lonely tears of devestation,
only comfort those of imagination...

Trace for fingerprints,
of a memory long forgotten...

I fall from grace,
unholy night...