When talons of deception tear my iris
I shall not cease
prisoner of the depths of my soul
lurks a sleeping beast
Ripping flesh and scaring skin
these wounds shall never heal
the demon strengthens, evolves
fear is the consuming feel
coarsing my veins, making haste to end of limbs
forthcoming this danger screams.
With lead and deceased trees, scratches on a void
tames the beast or so it seems
alas lack of skill, fine movements imperfect
testiment to eyes scarred from life
coming forth to unsatisfying marks abounding
surging forth spewing distain and trife.
Yet the numbered, so little in their heads and hearts
see perfection, beauty and gift
pity they live, for truth I behold
in ending they lay, as I eternal lift.
For the raging distain within, when slowely tamed
turns from devil to winged light
for freedom of evil and hate from internal quarters
lets harvest love and honest insight.