(TPAC) Alexander Coppedge

Brothers before an earth creation origin forming it, start of homes of souls thought to sin, begin the tale proclaiming it others living under dark a to life.

Opinions of higher light water state a suggestion, say by a vanity delusion greatest sight, reflecting whole life it this blessing of the up folks it's alright.
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Sun up its flare saw drop, fall it sinking finals rest, scream sounding loudly bursts hidden in hollows call shouted, came dark proclaims its news to all.

Statement it a cry to life warns the voice it issues, creeping it a dreary fear fright it coming it is near, surviving a dark danger to try it effort of animals.
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Poetry, at desires, striking arrows within, declaring out a word, stand say, is to me, a voice heard, that land, a statement of free emotions, scribbled in line, written by wand and bow.

Love it to a calm, high wind breeze, activate this need be set intentions, aimed at a target, slowly pulling a red string, stretching, pull back, direction goes up that flow, low; release: its hum.
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The sun drops beams, caused by downed rays, touch sways that are aimed at the dark ground, destroy displays; set as their visuals; pathway.

A light, a dawn's hark, is to us, a morning, puts on its bark, attacks cave's night, peels dark off the wall, melts hot away; dew in a park.
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You, indeed, are a needed friend, submit good wisdom to me in the Lord's trust, promote love inside an evil heart; wanted companion, tell me to make visions about the night's shadows, seeking a beam as my guiding light.

A king appointed and placed on a throne to help claim souls, allowing his death, aids others to vanquish evils, save their loved ones: nail one innocent, them to a cross, folks.
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Life treasure tasks hated such as failing to recall a feature, retain the funds the replacement to uplift cash, to have no job but pleasure safely in a bank.

My duty is to target it is minor, at draining steals this item cutting, reveals faults it stops to pits and boasts a max: ends fear to retire seals final facts.
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"Watch me", flow over it a flower, beyond blow fly in wind spec, high upper gust swirling, befriending a spider below: talks a fly.

"We-e", spin body black frame, turns its spinning, flaps of wings high in the air, rapidly beat at the same time; twins: joyfully game.
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My coming soon to me future: too very near, stop working, viewing the various pits of life, ending work face, dazzled, it's an ace, having no job, retirement; isn't great for me: in a race.

This reality fate has laid a trap, it's placed to bust any man, intending it to kill, cut it's timeless evil, taking a death thrust, rippling this dramatic fear; deeply it shears: in once able bones rust.
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Call me then, when Heaven's army nears upon the low chaos that's beneath, approaches; gates reopen, aiming to attack, get ready: assure pick tactics a total victory.

Awake me then, from a deep nap, I've taken it, releasing my inner Hulk that's inside, providing approved help for its finish: ending all those spoken lies.
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I need to be at the very start, living from that initial beginning; endure those precise moments projected, then convey actions about those exact things.

I want to relive those actions about an event that happened; know the factors recalling its tiniest details: pushing out any doubt about what did occur confirms the whole evidence.
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Food is placed carefully inside our mouths, raced by rip bites down a tube wall: traced pieces swirl into fits, dissolving with others, and then tumbling all into a pot.

Treats entering our bodies are being forced into tubes, compressed under pressure into cubes, placed with digested bits, eaten: form mixed toxic concoctions with acids, filling up spaces and forming lubes.
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I'm sorry for this absence of my presence, giving my firm apologies and regrets that I could not be there, having one more chance to cherish the various things we all love.

Pardon my rude total absence of not being with you; knowing I have tried my best, still falling short of that goal: yet do ask all my friends to fill the void without me and carry on.
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I feared unknown mysteries as a small child that crept in the night; uncertainties thought to roam not sure existed: encountering a glance at them briefly, one freezing me helplessly jumping upon my chest.

I thought simply as a teen I was crazy, believing in these sick fables which surely couldn't exist, feeling foolish about and less like an adult holding to these phantom beliefs.
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I want to be completely prepared, close to ready when things begin to happen; feeling great nearest the top of my best: desiring efforts to ease the coming of its worst.

War gears on at that precise moment, springs open Hell's gates, seen patiently waiting among my greatest foes seated, aiming to maintain a little bit of my decency.
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In the very beginning, there was the reality of light; opposing it equally was the state of darkness: existed contained in those two regions there was a host.

The host between the two states assembled into existence, being them as one, living together as one whole family, acknowledgment prior to the structure of a heaven.
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This picture projected an obvious occurrence; viewing as common factors known the various features shown: feeling deep inside this darkening dread, something just ain't right.

The picture is a clear vision of people interacting with each other, moving to and fro about each other, doing normal things: absent of sensing it all perfect, thinking something strange.
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Any closed door can hold numerous secrets, storing various items within it to explore: detailing perhaps the opposite to this thoughtfully claimed idea, holding nothing inside at all.

A door opens to a room that's empty; releases one's imagination to all kinds of things that can be done within them probabilities: roaming views which occupy the mind with thoughts, filling its space.
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It's a crying shame when your best friend is someone that hates you; acknowledging the deceit of others, betraying your well-being, assured one thing that's fact; by your foe is provided, because of their malice intents up front.

It's totally wrong to pick your worst enemy as your favorite buddy; selecting them completely over those you were intended to love: but this pick will never alter its aim to cut down on your efforts, having no regrets.
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You'll be unlikely, at any time, to hear any statement from them; no spoken words, nor any attempts to communicate: periodically seeing merely their visuals as they roam about your house.

Spirits swiftly move through your quarters, barely by you or others to be seen: glancing evidence solely at sometimes a blurred dark shadow, questioning you whether it was really there.
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I need to gather all my courage, extracting a lot from its growing roots, giving me a chance to battle, the ability to fight back.

I want to be brave, even though fear has sunk deep within me; find some relief from my amounting fears: hoping someone will give me a weapon, so that I can fight back a little.
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