Dirge of the PassingHow loud does one bell toll, At the passing of a senseless beast? Or if at all, does it cryDirge of the Passing
The same mourning motherly cry, When the sound of laughter
Becomes so deafeningly silent? Hear not the dirge of fallen men, Crying at the world above That is filled with not a single face, But with masks of white And smiles painted a peeling red? On his harrowing journey to hell, Sees the eyes the mocking requiem, And alas, a salute to sky, Before the decorated coat and cadaver Wounded in the heart by honor Are laid to mourn beneath the feet Of the p
Stream of unwanted angstQuiet is the world in the early hours. Alone in the darkness, with out a rude light, the world seems as if masked by a sheet of muting grey. Outside the dust riddled windows a sky of dismal grey rains upon the city of artificial day. The darkness it seems is a cold wonder, for all the ancients have dreamt up stories of the occult to haunt the recklessness of contemporary society. But I see nothing now but shadows of dim black upon the wall—menacing they seem, at least enough to run the fear out of a weak mind. I see no ghosts or fiends that many a frightened mind have had to horror to witness before at night. There is nothing here but myselfStream of unwanted angst
Why?
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"Shadows bleeding through the light
Where the love once shined so bright "
well, I'm visiting you
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I will make you understand...
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.... el amor es una zona peligrosa
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