Let your lungs suffocate against the sordid air,
And cause your hand to raise high in despair.
Unable to breath as glass smoke pours down,
Causing you to swim in the air, only to drown.
Melting roses grate down your flesh,
Burn you with life blood and a neverending caress.
Eyes bleeding water of such torturous heat,
Mingles with your blood and gritting, tight teeth.
Clutch the air for some semblance of hope,
Only to suffocate with each gasping choke;
The gods stay quiet and watch you die!
But you mistake them to believe they could even cry.
Have they forsaken you, abandoned so quick?
Nay, untrue, they follow a shepherd’s stick
Who so cryptically proclaims some simple words,
“Their fate is their own, let us conserve.”
By the light sheds your mortal coil,
Yet vengeance burns with hope and sorrow.
“My family, my mother,” seethes through clenched teeth,
“There will be a tomorrow, gods hear my plea!”
Blood boils and coils and burns with might,
With memories come wisdom to learn and give insight.
By laughter and love hope ripples from the past,
Even from the ones that have had their chance,
To the dearly departed that did not last,
The mortal shell beckons its soul back.
Scream along with the klaxons of depair,
Because in your mind’s eye they certainly detail,
Of a mortal’s bloody struggle for longing life,
And subsequent return into mortal strife.