By: M. R. Vega
Burning embers to my temple, blue night shadow, withers my sorrows.
Forever splendor, feigning fervor to the quiet solitude that stands resolute.
Burning embers to my heart’s desire, muted and restrained, bleeding red, lamentations for silence.
Painted stars and space within these lids, closing the eyes to fly away from this here haze finding no solace in the noise.
Blue scorn to my fervour of an untamed heart, splice my mind and the memories within, bring me solace paint, me black, paint me red, paint me new.
Burn to ash the worry of tomorrow, burn the hand that holds one still, burn, burn, burn, leave the scars of the troubled heart for another day.
Leave the mind to another, leave the heart find the time, take the red, take the black, call for pause and take a breath.
We call to ash, we bring the hate, like shrouded blankets of fueling madness, spitting rage, burn it down take the fire, bring the red. Bring the hate. Take my fate.
Ash to ash to ash to ash to ash to ash to ash to ash to ash to ash to ash to ash to ash to ash to ash.
Dream Dark Stories 