purple waves surround the noise
an infant heart is breaking
familiar aches return with notes
foundations here are shaking
solitude within this crowd
your loss seems so severe
blinding hope with bastard faith
a mirror of your tears
reflections cure a healthy soul
a desert of disease
burning hopes with solar hate
masters, i must please
chaining hurt to dying beds
shackled in their sorrow
infections spread across the wound
seeping guilt tomorrow
a silent scream capitulates
nightmares reign throughout
building bridges, soon to burn
drowning all with doubt

again he sings, the waves commence
a song, so melancholy
flooding minds with sinful color
to paint this devil's folly
the artist's hand so slowly shakes
incessant is his weeping
a masterpeice of homeless souls
as death continues reaping
a thousand spirits turned to wrath
corruption at its start
singing sweetly to lure saints
who sculpt this broken heart
music rides upon this canvas
a symphony of pain
the violin, death's sweet solo
sewn with scars of Kane
quilting hearts of fallen souls
an angel's final leaving
to warm this heart, forever lost
my song of silent grieving

Hesitant in speaking
embarassed by this pain
alone in all your hiding
innocence you feign
shameful as this coward
your eyes, we never meet
superior to mourning 
the picture of defeat
sordid signs maturing
curruption in the seed
a rancor in your liking
in others' quip you bleed
so careful in your refuge
wary of this knell
forgotten is the pathos
this child's but a shell
an empty wind blows clearly
a death not quite humane
outcast by a brother
crippled by the pain
an invalid in psyche
hades' favorite fool
grown within his garden
a flower for the cruel

statues without faces
held within the light
solid in their standing
yet crumbling in the night

only in this darkness
can statues truly live
to dance with patterned footsteps
upon the vows they give

the blankness leaves the iris
again the princess sees
her prince so finely sculpted
upon the (k)nightly breeze

with greys of night to highlight
every laugh and tear
shed by crafted lovers
with only dawn to fear

as silver turns to pruple
the statues now must sleep
but here the love's forever
for hope, the night does keep