Caricamento in corso...

The Demon Dyed

to Marcy Howard

He searches, for, a key, to the lock;though the, lock, seems rusted shut,
Weather and time, have, exacted a toll;as the blood, flows from, his  cuts,
Will, this monster, locked inside;one day, unlock, his chains,
As, the blood, flows, from, his wounds;while, the droplets, fall, like rain.
The chains, amassed, through the years;make him, try, to tear, his skin,
While, the shackles, cut and scrape;overseen, by his, toothless grin,
In, the darkness, he sees, so well;yet, his soul, can not, be free;
As, he searches, for what, he’s lost;inside, death’s, reality.
Slowly, he rises, to, his feet;his chains, rattle, as he moves,
While, a strain, of music, floats, on the air;and this, savage beast, it soothes,
Blood, still flows, from, his wounds;yet still, he searches, for the key,
Though, the music, soothes, his soul;his, wounds, forever bleed.
As, time passes, he slowly, tires;with desperation, on his face,
As, realization, strikes, his mind;he, could, forever, be in this place,
Soon, the chains, will weigh, him down;his demons, will then, emerge,
For, if, his key, can not, be foumd;his soul, might be, submerged.
Blood, his fuel, darkness, his friend;will, there ever, be, an escape,
Or will, he forever, be, confined;behind, his prison gate,
Does, his demon, hold, his soul;or is, he himself, the Demon Dyed,
For, though, it seems, he still, bleeds red;will his demons, ever die.
         a soul, without, it’.s other half
Altre opere di Lance Nathan Conrad...