Post by Onyxaeon on Sept 7, 2009 11:55:11 GMT -5
And of every lie I have ever been told,
The greatest was for mercy.
You believed them, didn’t you?
Every tender moment, every whispered promise.
And now the demons have come to writhe inside of you,
Coiling around your skull till the pressure has mounted,
And you can do nothing but scream to the empty,
Unresponding walls around you.
Your blood has curdled,
Condemning your heart as the organ tries a futile stand.
But, you traded that precious wonder away long ago,
Just to escape in your illusion of security.
Bless your soul.
You don’t even know you’re dying.
Pray away into your delusions,
Wish for the angels that have long since scorned you and your
Broken remains.
Where is your angel of mercy?
She stands there in silence with her hands tied.
And as your screams resound in her ears,
She will toss and turn until wings of snow have torn,
The bitter barbs of rusted iron bearing rows of crimson,
Etched inside her flesh for the eons to come.
For all her strength,
The only capable has fallen:
A victim of your mercy.
The heavens roll her damned frame from their clouds,
And she is of the fallen.
Even angels die, my dear friend.
And before the lie comes to an end,
She has crawled through the brambles and
Broken glass, crossing the enemy lines.
All to die in your arms where her ruby wings
Wrap themselves around you,
And a final whispered promise flees from her lips:
“You will find a way to make it through it.”
Is there any comfort found in knowing hope has come too late?
Or any truth to the words of a fallen?
Bless your soul.
The greatest lie that has ever been told,
And yet, you still believe it?
The greatest was for mercy.
You believed them, didn’t you?
Every tender moment, every whispered promise.
And now the demons have come to writhe inside of you,
Coiling around your skull till the pressure has mounted,
And you can do nothing but scream to the empty,
Unresponding walls around you.
Your blood has curdled,
Condemning your heart as the organ tries a futile stand.
But, you traded that precious wonder away long ago,
Just to escape in your illusion of security.
Bless your soul.
You don’t even know you’re dying.
Pray away into your delusions,
Wish for the angels that have long since scorned you and your
Broken remains.
Where is your angel of mercy?
She stands there in silence with her hands tied.
And as your screams resound in her ears,
She will toss and turn until wings of snow have torn,
The bitter barbs of rusted iron bearing rows of crimson,
Etched inside her flesh for the eons to come.
For all her strength,
The only capable has fallen:
A victim of your mercy.
The heavens roll her damned frame from their clouds,
And she is of the fallen.
Even angels die, my dear friend.
And before the lie comes to an end,
She has crawled through the brambles and
Broken glass, crossing the enemy lines.
All to die in your arms where her ruby wings
Wrap themselves around you,
And a final whispered promise flees from her lips:
“You will find a way to make it through it.”
Is there any comfort found in knowing hope has come too late?
Or any truth to the words of a fallen?
Bless your soul.
The greatest lie that has ever been told,
And yet, you still believe it?
