Quiet Imagery

Lovely the eyes that see through troubled souls
Lonely the heart that loves without its love
Lost is the sight of the elderly folks
Those who ignite sparks of knowledge in us.

Cast is the sky when the clouds overflow
Calling the light, and the thunder is gone
Now is the time to pray for missing calls
Of men and mice, their hearts beat as a whole.

Cold is the name of the man with no soul
Common the name of unrequited love
Colors that shade over sharp-edged rocks
Plotting revenge from a small-sized box.

Kind is the blade that cuts through, no delay
Mind over matter, the pain fades away
High is the praise when red reaches its death
Fight with a blaze when everyone has left.

Painful the scars ripping hard through thick veins
Merciful gods giving their sons their strength
Dark is the time when they use it instead
Ripping the hearts of their so-called good friends.

Holy the time when the truth comes in flocks
Tearing the masks of our disguised false gods
Sacred the life of them, the fallen ones
For the victory's theirs when it's all said and done.