Every Mark You Make I Mimic
Enjoy.
Silence torn apart in the dead of night by the ringing and ringing. Tears drip from the green orbs. Drowsy is the voice that answers in the torn silence of night.
Crackling words pour from the tongue of the shattered beauty. Fear in his mind he stays, counseling the girl. Deep is the bond that binds the two.
Savage desperation fills his heart as his empty prayer is cast to an all seeing deity. Strength is found by him in her weakness. Into night he treads, neither man nor force of heaven in earth will stand in his way. Quicker and quicker are his steps as he fights forth.
To her he treads as crimson thoughts stream in her desolate mind. Blind love leads his way, his only compass. "Please, please, please" he begs, "let me not be too late. " Over and over she searches, the metallic gleam soon to be crimson not to be found. Draws are open, sheets over turned, and the closet door is cast aside.
The maelstrom pounds as he walks, but he is untouched by fear. No weakness slows his tread, no obstacle stands behind his path. Through sideways rain and ear shattering thunder the house he seeks is illuminated by lightning. Forward he walks as she finds the blade. To her wrist she touches the cool metal, and upon the door his hand bangs.
Mascara stained tears roll down her face as she steps forth to the beat of his fist. Into the vacuum of darkness she opens the door. Great sobs escape her lips as the lightning illuminates him, his own blade to his wrist. "A deal I strike with you. Every mark you make I mimic." Cold steel strikes the floor as into his open arms she rushes.....
Crackling words pour from the tongue of the shattered beauty. Fear in his mind he stays, counseling the girl. Deep is the bond that binds the two.
Savage desperation fills his heart as his empty prayer is cast to an all seeing deity. Strength is found by him in her weakness. Into night he treads, neither man nor force of heaven in earth will stand in his way. Quicker and quicker are his steps as he fights forth.
To her he treads as crimson thoughts stream in her desolate mind. Blind love leads his way, his only compass. "Please, please, please" he begs, "let me not be too late. " Over and over she searches, the metallic gleam soon to be crimson not to be found. Draws are open, sheets over turned, and the closet door is cast aside.
The maelstrom pounds as he walks, but he is untouched by fear. No weakness slows his tread, no obstacle stands behind his path. Through sideways rain and ear shattering thunder the house he seeks is illuminated by lightning. Forward he walks as she finds the blade. To her wrist she touches the cool metal, and upon the door his hand bangs.
Mascara stained tears roll down her face as she steps forth to the beat of his fist. Into the vacuum of darkness she opens the door. Great sobs escape her lips as the lightning illuminates him, his own blade to his wrist. "A deal I strike with you. Every mark you make I mimic." Cold steel strikes the floor as into his open arms she rushes.....
Post Comment
