Thea Pound

Nothing but a cold darkness here,
Since the sun died out;
Just ruthless dreams of a hopeless hope,
A cruel fate, framed by doubt.
...

Let us wear a mask of calm,
Below the surface seething,
No flicker can show, no eyes may glow,
Steady my rhythm of breathing.
...

Is it not so, That we have fallen,
Almost deafened to The Calling,
Our cenotaph, such great glass columns,
In the urban jungle Sprawling.
...

I wear a face, when I step outside.
A mask. Persona. I am not myself.
I seem calm; nothing touches me.
The barrier waivers. The mask smiles on.
...

Devour me, my love;
I desire to never part from you,
I desire to be a part of you,
And only you. Always.
...

Macabre are my verses;
Have you ever wondered why,
I always speak of heurses,
And those destined to die?
...

This is my stronghold,
Where I contain my fears,
To hide that which has haunted me,
And festered through the years;
...

It fractures at even the lightest touch,
My aspirations cast in crystal glass;
Precious pieces turned to razors,
Delicate dreams not built to last.
...

They sharpen up the blades,
And scheme their bitter schemes,
They spread malice and lies,
For those with different dreams.
...

Another night in this grim city;
A monster out there walking,
Engrossed deep in your vices,
And with the victim you are stalking.
...

There's a dragon sleeping,
Within my soul concealed,
There he waits, impatient,
For his chance to be revealed;
...

Here there burns a fire,
That cannot be tamed,
There's far too much repressed,
That dances in the flames;
...

I was ready to tear the stars from the sky,
And cast the to the ground below,
But there you were, take take my hands,
And guide me to let go.
...

How sweet the days that long have passed,
How warm the fond memory,
Before the dice of fate were cast,
Before sorrow sought company.
...

What am I, but what time forgot,
But an echo from your past?
What am I but a shadow,
Of dreams once forged from glass?
...

The die of fate will soon be cast,
Soon I will fly my cage,
Your system was not built to last,
And won't survive my rage.
...

Not so long ago,
There was an oath I swore,
That I would raise the people up,
And become judgement's sword;
...

Who am I, you ask?
Antinomian nature, battling tirelessly,
With antithetical reflections.
Views and emotions without balance,
...

Rising like knives, the glistening spires,
Reflecting the city; a hall of mirrors,
A resonant din from mechanical choirs,
Weaving roadways growing narrower, nearer;
...

I must believe in His voice. I must believe.
No matter what, I cannot let myself doubt,
Because in this world, stranger things can - and must - happen;
If I can believe in his voice (A million to one chance) ,
...