Ballet of Thorns

This nightmare’s mind’s like mine,

I beg the silence: ‘draw me nearer’,

Deeper dissent for the damned,

How I wish to drown,

And long to stare into the mirror,

My final sanctity,

Voice of my trembling demise.

And hollow be thy name,

The one that screams at me of fear,

Breathing into this divide,

Become my tragedy,

It leaves the luminescence clearer,

These wretches crawl behind,

Caught in this black reverie.

Slumber now, slumber now and

As the dolls dance on,

Tied to one another,

I can’t understand,

The path that we follow.

There are things I can’t see,

Places I will never be,

An understanding of the crown that you wear,

And the ballet of thorns in my head.