A blessed union of the saints, sent to create a miracle
But fate had something else in mind as he opened his eyes.
Witness to conflict before sentences were constructed
How else was she supposed to react?
Constant confusion whirling and spiraling out of control.
The imagery is vivid.
Paint splashes on her white canvas,
the tides continue to turn but no time has passed
Mind blown open past proportions.
So solace was found within,
With a blank paper and a pen
Where the sights and sounds of a 3-d world fade
Into similar soliloquies upon a page
It's the only place where it doesn't hurt to lash out,
Possibility of an unlucky blow, maybe passing out.
The dark presence laid in wait as it seethed away, waiting to be unleashed into the open air.
Think nothing of it when it is in infancy but watch it blossom instantly when it is mature and on its way to cause destruction tomorrow, that could've been curbed today.
If you could take it back,
would you really do it?
Or just lie cheat and scheme your way through it
Apocalypse has reached its pinnacle and the plume has yet to dissipate
Imagine,
all of this
has spanned from hate,
hate of a lover,
hate of a friend, hate of beginning and rushing to an end before the foundation was laid and moves were played.
Yet before things stayed slow and sedated everything became completely
totally
obliterate.
Hate.
© 2015 Strict Evolution Creative Works and Entertainment
