Solemn ties around the perpetual myth
of grandiosity orchestrate the belief
that self-assurance tells a story of
what had to be overcome to get here.
Heaven's gate has no open door
Hell hath no fury but a survivor unknown
The devil's got your back
like a desert land's mirage
It's a layered remembrance of a cradle stock life,
sans the echo of the timely brigade
designed to shake off the deafening tribunal
When you marked my beauty,
was your reflection
what you gazed at in my eyes?
You tried to shake down
my lively fist in the air
There you with your stilted smile,
I was waiting to hold you close
to put an end your bootcamp order of business.
Crimson is the color that sounds the alarm
for spirits cast off
into a cycle of what's known and broken.
Peace is the heart of lives that matter