The Demon Weeps
Contemplating his motives to reconcile with its cold careless composure
Deceitful in every eye, but never perceiving in regards to becoming life’s saving destroyer
Wings falling from fearful palms until the underworld’s dusk breaks in a new spawn
Breathing in the sorrow of every open sore as soldiers mend the frontlines of fruitless dawns
Weeping without sound for every second wasted from the confessions of long forgotten burdens
Barricading the words within closed minds until ignorance releases itself from our versus
Handed down the choices on golden platted platters with every intention to silence this thunder
Only to leave with empty hands dragging down the weight of a thousand voices cast asunder
In place of tears, there is a thick substance raining down from these mirror coated eyes
A demon that weeps for no one, dreads the day when he his confronted by the face of its unrelenting lies