Little Red

All the eyes dare to see is red
this hunger that is, dares to grow, wishes to be fedThe darkness permeates
the unforgivable surge of anger and the rage
stains the blood upon the ancient journal’s page
The morality-line of the heart is gladly severed
One flower is rotted amongst the few, the whiteness finally levered

Is it worth to have the droplets of blood you seek, even if it is the poison that feeds you?
Is it worth to fight, even if it changes absolutely nothing?
Is it worth having friends, even if in the end, we all die alone?

The darkness is surging forth
the gift of power and corruption that lay upon the bloodied feet
where the sword and shield dare meet
The aligning balance starts to twist
Blowing meaning into the mist

The fingers that trace upon the softened skin,
creating uniting marks, scars and bruises of the heart
Dare to burn into the mind and leech on, draining until the blood is gone
Restraint of this fiend that grows to burst is the only remedy
for even imaginary child-monsters refuse to die of mere physical extermination

I reminisce about the day when both Heaven and Hell fell to pieces like a rain of jigsaws,
when The Beast called “Me” and “I” roamed the Earth
Feeding upon the fallen and the hopelessly praying retched souls
knowing that again, the three worlds-in-denial shall be linked again

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