The presence of the past are trying to take our minds
They are not the stuff of legend, they aren't the undead kind
They aren't demons laying in the grass
They aren't gonna come out and kick your ass
They are the evil spirits of the past
They move stealthy and are way too fast
You can't outrun them or try to hide
And if your not aware your soul they will find
Evil exists outside the city limits of our mind
It waits in the shadow, looking for the right time
If your not careful it will consume you
You'll be seeing red, instead of blue
A crimson mass will be your death
A rotting body will be all thats left
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I am feeling that 'crimson mass' as my death right now. I'm dwelling on the past sooo much right now, b/c I just got into a horrible fight with my mother. I'm in bad shape right now, and God seems sooo far away. I feel so sad, and ruined. This poem is helping me cope though. Thank you for this. God Bless! ~Sarah Loves