This land of followers,
Broken like water starved earth,
Cracked and opened by desolation,
More sun, more shadow
But never the healing rain,
And upon this land,
You find me weak and uncrowned.
The throat was cut in the abyss of my dreams
My hope poured forth like rivers,
Away from me to starve me again,
Dethroned my crimson during this night,
The confessor of all of my deeds.
Knives and candles,
Fallen leaves and exhaled breaths,
Darkness and shedding’s,
For now, I serve my purpose,
For now, I spill my grief.
And in that forest I found something within myself,
The path that took me to a lesson,
Take my heart and spit it into my eyes,
For I can no longer see,
While clouded in tragedy.
The right of the evil man decree:
He shall have his heart broken but once.
The path of the good man taught me:
He shall have it broken daily.