TheDesolateAngel

Creating Staring at a piece of nothing Trying so hard to fill that void Forgetting how easy it was Slowly a creation forms Allowing itself to be born A spark of life to the nothingness "What are you doing?" Creating The simple answer startled him Believing that…nothing Staring down the barrel of that gun again Loaded waiting to go off In his face Music fills the background Destroying the assembled Mockery of chaos Waiting to begin The moment ended Lost A vast rippling pool of black ink I screamed RELEASE! His penance was done By drop of blood moon Mixed metaphors Decisive indecision Waited on his lips Music, ly

Something New Shattered souls of useless creations Broken wings of forgotten angels I am so compelled to laugh when in truth I want only to weep I tried once to shine in happiness and met with sorrow deep and endless "Where is your God now?" Always last on every list even my own Beaten and broken I've said my last goodbye's

whispers whispering winds stir on silent tides scents of memories nearly lost a brief smile to touch these lips an age come and gone yet all things return to us if we be but patient and listen to the winds

Lost Demons dancing in dim firelight and angels swirling through the smokey haze A scene played out a thousand times before Like an old movie loved by a lonely stranger watched from the distance and placed back in its well worn case A single drop of starlight is all that's needed to find illumination when those who wander become truly lost I cannot seem to find my metaphores the movie has been played too many times and now has become to worn to watch the lines through the picture distort what is really there and all I can see is the static left behind a story book rhyme or a riddle with no answer the fire burns low and the demo

In dreams of her I linger constantly thinking creating new ways to say... things I've tried so hard never to say out loud desperately screaming to make her hear what I am saying already I beg steal and horde the hours so that we might spend a day or a minute together to hear her say what she's been saying all along This silent watcher seeing her world pass me by caught up in the memories and the maelstroms. Listening to the winds that stir these silent tides.

She She breaks my heart day by day and I worry that I may break in the end. I'm leaving the pieces on the floor and walking away a little more each time A glass homunculus shattering knowing that motion will surely destroy yet still walking away. Feeling the pieces forming tiny replicas that in turn walk away and shatter one tiny piece at a time Until the dust is all that's left still slowly moving across the obsidian floors sped along by the winds that blow the pieces to and fro until the smallest grains cover the land microscopic homunculi still trying to walk away one atom at a time.