As a character in the play of waking screams
I meander aimlessly around the filthy pulpit
To pray to a husk that is full of empty dreams
The feeling of need writhes within my chest
Like a thousand squirming pupating larvae
That will burst forth, and never see me take rest
For I am destined to become as the shadow
To walk forever in the light of day, invisible
Hiding in pure light as the tears of the widow
My soul forged into a weapon of pure hate
For my murderers to use in there schemes
To bring about the almost inevitable fate
One where dreams and ash are born as one
But as beautiful as a single silver tear of love
Used to ensure the righteous see the sun
You see the hollow worshipers on bended knee
Praying to a god that transcends reasonable doubt
A world that will end, but not just because of me
You see this cage of life in which we openly believe
Holds the truth to us all as we live and breath
And is but a mere speck of dust, in the cosmic weave
© Copyright 2016 Ian Dawn. All rights reserved.
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