I'm not like a bud that eventually blossoms,
I dwell as a scavenger much like a possum...

Chalk,
Wastes away with each knock...

Dancing with bodies of Flame,
I can never throw that blame...

It lingers in my room,
It dimmers all that blooms...

His the seasons in a day,
I never know if I should stay...

Three,
Undersea...

Red,
Dread...

In a crevice I do not cry,
Or feel emotion I don't know why...

Skin lingering with an edge of frost, awaiting to...
but a pond action...

I play a game of tainted lies,
That twists and turns my enemies eyes...

The thought dawns on me that he is awaiting my...
For I see perfection as he is...

It's times like these i think of Death,
About it's possibilities to end my breath...