It was a hardened fall that broke out each hollowed hope, and let time keep her distance as she seemed to grow down heavens guarded rope. But whilst no longer holding out, a turn of events started to build their place amongst the few that came and went. Dreams for the beginning to let the end build its career in unearthed fires allowed each shadowed figure to glance out from behind the lit and darkened desires. It was time to let go and to let the realities play out their play.
Watching from past lines, I bow down and take the stage for my own, as the ghostly hands applaud the night sky as it rains down in time to each mortal dance that I try. A dance that devours and the mind it enslaves, and drags memories out from deep beyond our hidden graves. And within the graves of sin, we let the dust settle upon our souls, twirling in time to the music, a melody of ancient times, long ago foretold. Awaiting for the signs, our lips struggle to find their place, as in each swinging line, we remain firm in each untold embrace.
And as we wait, the shrine of our prayers glides in fixed temptation upon our hands, as the softened strokes call for bliss, and vain glory waits for our return.
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