Rough copy, will be reposted later

I stare at a field of tombstones, each a reflection of the men I have been

I see the the black marsh of sorrow expanding to the lifeless seas, a place beneath the deathly quiet waters to look at the world as it should be, a space amongst the flowers for a single black rose to grow, a barbed ring of petals to make the lifeless bleed

The grave lays open before me, lined with each thorn of an opportunity missed, after that the ghosts are waiting to take back the smiles I stole to fake the humanity I never felt

The inscription is diamond etched and sings a tone of sorrow, to tears all else might retreat but thy name is less a meaning, the mis truths of deception cloak all that I was

I stand before the tombstones, each a reflection of who I was, the one that screams in absence of a slab of mirrored marble, the one that spells the riddle of who I really am

The black marsh of sorrow hides the bodies of flesh I wear to see walk the seas of silence, from the depths red eyes look up, my true nature waiting to reclaim all that exists above it by harvesting the illusions I project

Each has a slither, a slight edge of truth, when combined she will see me and I fear the creature that makes its form before her, for I am the demon that protects

Protects not me from the world around us, but the one spark of hope that corrupts the negative sub cultures of my nature, shattered and broke


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