Rorshcach

Accused of stealing the breath of the fresh air,

I work stealthily in the mighty Puppeteer's absence.

I pull the strings with my dexterous fingers,

Trying to tinker with the mind's clockwork.

Tying the world to my subtle perceptions,

I exhume the Marionettes' buried remains,

And use them to paint a new portrait

Of the masquerade I conspire to create.

Concealed in the languid penumbra,

I walk away from the light.

The bright iridescence from the flame;

Blinds my gray eyes - laden with murkiness.

The world spins around in dizzy blur,

I fail to recognize the passing faces.

The storyboard of life is written,

And yet rewritten again.

A broken soul slowly pieces together,

It's utterly garbled psyche.

A repressed love makes subtle appearances,

Only to be unceremoniously stifled by assassin's creed.

The torsion between the mind and heart,

Has ripped apart the soul;

Murder and vengeance came hand in hand,

Judgement became the obtuse fool.

Tear off me this blighted mask,

Purge from my sanity,this cursed miasma

Deafen me to drown the noise of this vile epiphany,

For join I never shall, this blasphemous masquerade.

Wakeful Reverie

The shifting sands prolong the hours,

Of silent poignant thought,

The visions of a pale sky blur,

Cris-crossed by flooding sunlight.

My instruments are no longer of any use.

Strings have long rusted.

I hear morning's retreating footsteps,

The windows to my room, still shut.

The bird has left it's secure nest ,

A flight into uncharted horizon.

A solitary butterfly struggles to get free,

Out of the dusk, it's cocoon.

The lissome drops of cold rain ,

Fog my crystalline window pane.

Whilst the war of thunder rages on,

As swords of lightning clash against it's shield.

Some Kind of Monster

Suspended in Time

Those moments lie

For She never returned

Leaving me to fade away in bleak midwinter.

Still waiting,

Wishing I was dead

Desperate to forget

Unable to focus on what lay ahead.

Breathing in vacuum

Struggling to exist,

Memories tormenting my sanity ,

Making me clench my fist.

Emotions are numb

Insides sore,

I knew the hour had come

I couldn't take it anymore.

My transformation had begun.

I could no longer carry dead weight,

In the wake of suffocation

My Allegiances had shifted.

During this forsaken hour,

I built my armor.

Forged in the fires of rage

Empowered by anathema.

My only objective faces me,

To tell her...

Should I ever meet her again,

"Come witness thy creation"

"Behold in front of you it stands. "

A Wraith perhaps- a pallid specter

A potent variant of

'Some Kind of Monster'