The imagination

Determination in the world tree called terror to behold.
This can be the way a wormtounge's tale is told.
Lets climb into the rooted malformed night.
Where no boundaries are corrected to be right.

Nobody can stand this self forged imagination.
There is no control in it's own ionization.
I wish to free it let people see the dark I tend to hide.
Dare to look so deep it will be isolating images that will divide.

Only tug not to be dug into, like a desperate grave.
The thunder in the sky replays the motion the mind enslaves.
Thousand different colored fires immolates the slow end of the noose.
The league of fascinating demons in the past that I want to introduce.

But luckily the heart is the cage of the imagination.
Wont allow it to escape the locks that call themselves sanitation.
Even when it is broken it will make it impossible to see.
The way to its pitch black freedom wont be a fortune's guarantee.