Key.

Intermost emotion.

Who am I, and who am I not?

My mask and soul have both rotten to the core.

Pray for the poor.

Blood adorns this world; Purgatory. 

Kisses to my lips, hands on my hips- bittersweet nights on the moon.

Words that make my heart wane for the night.

A smile that overshadows the light. 

Bare the tides of the sea. 

Afternoon teachings, and pleasant melancholia. 

A misshape of a prophecy: broken truths undercover bold lies. 

A slight quiver in her smile shone through her eyes. 

Forbidden windows to the soul. 

Feen for the uncorresponded emotions, and fret for the unseen terrors. 

Kill the raven swallowing my soul. 

Kill the sun that foreshadows the darkness that’ll engulf me whole. 

Hear the screams of those forever damned to this wretched hell. 

Chains hold down the past, but never the future- 

The beast inside strives to escape: one who is bound by fate. 

Shiver in the cold blood lust of everlasted hate.

Tremble my dear, listen far and near. 

Winter breeze, ah yes, it brings me to my knees. 

Like snow, tears falls upon my slender cheek. 

A color that’s always bleak. 

Embrace me; my deserved grace. 

Just what am I, and what am I not?

This is a forever pondered on thought. 

I might say, yet I might- and most possibly-

My mask is a key hole- and emotions are the key.