All that I will ever be is confined to frantic scribbles across half torn pages in the rain.
After all, Insanity is the same thing as Damnation.
This whole world is a graveyard. What are our lives? Cold drops of rain beating down on my shivering skin. This world is falling apart.. and I'm drowning with it.
Is this really me, or is it someone else?
(I don't think I know anymore.)
How do I describe hope? Is there hope left for me? Let us see...
I'm a crow with wounded wings
Kept secret from the sky
The clouds are crying..
Longing for my wings above the rain.
I am vengeance, in your eyes..
My insanity IS MY DAMNATION.
What god would want a soul such as mine..
Crawling, crawling through a wrought iron circle,
How could I ever fathom flying out?
The outside of this circle leads to a far bigger prison.
Teasing me, tempting me with the crying sky..
Dark grey clouds, lingering remnants of a world I was torn away from.
Longing for my mended wings to graze the cloud and feel the rain.
I would love nothing more than to leave you with words that will ring in your ears and bury themselves within your hearts, for all of you do have hearts, the most wondrous, fantastic, unique hearts I have ever had the pleasure of reading, seeing, imagining...
"It can't rain all the time."