that time has come again;
that cold emptiness floods this lonesome lagoon
and my thoughts scatter like the shimmers of the moon.
I try to grasp them but they run through my fingers
and back into that deep empty stillness.
i see darkness betweenst these glimmers of hope;
and it seems I'm crumbling from within,
through these cracks they find a way
and they can see
and then they know
but I must not show.
inside these four cournered walls lays the truth;
pain and sufferring,
worries and sorrow,
I cannot escape their clutches.
And in the silence of the night,
when nothing errs but the kitchen mice.
I hear a voice in the stillness;
which speaks to me of greatness;
imploring me to follow his ways,
but within his whispering voice i hear his deception;
a mere reflection;
a ghostly shadow
that fills me with confusion.
And from the darkness it twists and curls,
It's meanacing grin looking me in the face;
wide eyed crimson pearls,
and in them I see my hopes and dreams,
but I know its wicked ways,
where deep inside it lays,
waiting, seeking for that moment of weakness,
that moment of utter bleakness.
But I shall not let him escape again,
and so these chains I tie myself to;
a prisoner I must remain,
from the darkness I must abstain,
and keep him out of view;
those desires that lay dormant;
so I lament, and repent for my sins,
and in sorrow I live these remaining days,
and attempt to refrain from those wicked ways,
within these shackled chains.
But it seems those empty claims
where I pertain to be made of gold;
touched by the hand of Midas himself;
is but wasteful procrastination.
For when I look deep inside myself
I suspect these speculations;
are but mere vanity
these nightly contemplation's;
But I see beneath his vivid gaze,
those wicked ways,
in this lonesome grotto;
in the reflection of the shallows;
between the wavering of the shadows;
these comforting delusions
in which he speaks to me, telling me to follow,
happiness he can provide,
he is the demon
that lives inside.
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