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Eyes are fixed upon another dream, With features beyond belief, Like a scarlet witch, Who, Upon greater detail, Becomes a haunting shade, Teasing with the immaterial, Whilst a reality screams to be seen, For a curse is at play here, As no lenses can be found, Fixed upon the eyes of the dreamer immortal.
I once thought music a joy of life,Whose power has kept us ever fresh,By polishing heavy chains,That we ourselves have laid,And to sweet memories shackled. Rather, it is a key,To a dark place within,That unwilling hands cannot help but turn,Wherein we find hostage youth;To whom we have forbidden death,And through great pain, left to witness,Better… Continue reading The Sound of Life in Masquerade
I am hooked on a perfection, That exists solely in the realms of a mind, Whose experience of reality, Is but a curtain call on a forgotten time, Where love was known, Yet never mine to own.
