Conspire from a contradiction
of dreams and reality.
Reaching out with bloody hands
he hangs from morality.
Pouring from a crimson wound
bleeding inside out.
The razor’s sight and mind is sharp
and punctures my own route.
Fading from a distant past
ripping through my veins.
Flooding in with constant terror
the soul of chaos reigns.
Gazing into clouded windows
through fog, into their eyes.
Sought to free these poisoned dreams
awaken this bed of lies.
Reading into nothing there.
Knives seem to seek flesh out.
Cutting open pallid skin
and stitching it with doubt.
Building up a fortress of hope
to guard the fear of grief.
Waiting, searching for the final kiss.
Breathing lies of whispered belief.
Suffocating in solitude’s embrace.
Forced to witness him grasp for breath.
Watching as my hero falls
and welcomes his own death.
Condescending the decisions.
He has stumbled out of lines.
Nothing be the reason
we lose truth between the signs.
So in searching for refusal
he is high in his mistakes.
Walking onward to the endless
I rise where his will breaks.