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Lamented love and long lost dreams, a life that never was made it seems

A broken heart from pain and sorrow, then ember dead and gone tomorrow

A truth now told and must reveal, turning the life to something real

No more dreams and masks that hide, the one true face buried deep inside

A face with dirt and covered in sin, a face with no heart to feel or win

Memories last longer than the times we had, lost the cause and now never glad

Forlorn hope that gives us cause, to hope and dream and take a pause

Then as before and then once more, rip our the heart and leave a sore

Unreturned from dishonest deeds, even masked men have their needs

To hold and care for some one true, to have a heart born anew

The embers cold and fire dead, no more heart now only head

A cold hard truth from the masks that were, a cold dead heart that will never stir

Once more into the lies thy told, through them to feel and hold

If one is hurt but so many to help, then who cares for one lost whelp

The masks do bind, the masks do hide, they cover and bury inside

The man that was is no more, now only the tigress is left to roar.

~The Birth of Gram



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Life goes on without help, the heart now burns inside the whelp

The lies inside bring fear and pain, the truth may soon be very plain

The mask has crack and loosens hold, now that truth has been told

So many hurt and one no more, never again with masks was swore

For a time he held on strong, telling out to do no wrong

Once again the face was seen, but shunned and shamed as such obscene

No hands held out or place to cry, warm hearts now closed and a wish to die

Wandering the lands of eternal earth, not able to die because dead from birth

A long lost cause with no place to go, where deepest sorrow and seeds of woe

Woe be him that is dead of heart, no place to end for they never start

Masks discarded around the room, a deep dark pain that starts to fume

Building and burning with a want to feel, some thing wanting to be real

A new dark ember glowing there, run and hide and do beware

A child’s mind inside a man, dark things scheming and form a plan

Dark and cruel and pure as youth, to hell with pain and tell the truth

Noone cares and no one listens, let hell rise up as the heart glistens

~The Death of Gram