Saturday, July 26, 2014

The Cleansing Flame

Something sinister waiting in the dark
Malicious intent buried deep in the heart
A cacophonous crescendo of screams from the stars
A missive writ that will see these seas part

And I will take the best of you
And I will break what's left of you
Free you from this fleshy tomb
I will be the death of you

Spiritual awakening tied to this elusive dream
Your withering will spirals to the core of me
A slate-skinned storm of glorious defeat
A cursive consent to these sacrificial offerings
And I will trace the edge of you
And I will raise what sleeps in you
Take you from the waiting room
I will stay the tremors in you

Something not quite innocent, not quite corrupted
Something not quite accepted, not quite refused
A practitioner of perfection spilling paint on your canvas
Who would conceal a thousand lies, to expose this one truth
I am the death, the breath of you
The polished mirror in a crowded room
Who hides the vampires, dresses only in the fire
Reflected by you.

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