Keep the Faith
Heart.
He walks alone in this hellish world surrounded by fractures of fiery fumes and metallic lights; he turns his head and washes himself within the rays of his perished glory and the waters of their disdain. He wallowed in oceans too deep for his own thoughts; strings pulling his realization back and forth by opening the stitches of his puss infested wounds, seeing the yellow and rose red form in clouds over his bleary eyes.
Holding his panicked heart cradled within his trembling fingers, he continues walking.
Leave me alone! he cries out, I'm only a sinner; my halo fell with my pride, is that not enough for you?
With the tear stained object smeared in blood and filth in his arms; he skulks into the corner that no longer witnessed the beauty of multicolored dawns and smiling moons, the only thing remained was the taunting darkness and the ash topped grounds.
He sits and watches the illusions of past times walk by strutting in the star weaved cloaks he helped make once upon a time.
Wiping the racked liquids mimicking the tears that ran out ages ago, he wonders; he questions; he cries again.
Up he looks and down he falls, the eyes touting his every move hung there, in the middle of the sky, watching.
He pushes himself back to the dark, presses his back to the dark painted walls and lets himself fall. Get away from it all; get away.
The blemished signs bearing up his name for the world to see, the children calling his name, the printed words spelling his name; always his name.
His stomach twists and rives itself as he witnesses the controversy mangled from one mouth to another to create the monster that grappled the hearts of many, loose lips do sink ships; also, stab and disembowel the bodies of the so-called faith.
He has kissed the foreheads of their gullible innocence in forgiveness; words so mutilated and deformed can do so much to hearts of the young. Standing in front of the world beneath the glass he understood, they were lost, confused and hopeless; they needed some one to blame, some one to blacken his heart, to set on fire.
He had lost his powers, like the tired glass of olden windows loses its luster with time; he was walking on these dust ruffled grounds in his mortal image, shorn of all his superior hubris resembled in that riveting smile. The binding spell lying within his gestures and words vanished; they took it away.
His breaths are racing; the decaying smells of the gashes their words inflicted arose seeping in the sockets containing the air that swirls into never ending toxins resting in his suffering lungs. He's already crashed into the darkness, sensed its zest and delicacy. Maybe drowning isn't that bad after all...
So with somber words staggering from his numb lips, he whispers into his heart his words clogging up the wrung cracks decorating the bruised arteries receiving the hate endorsed doses that traveled throughout the touches of swift fingers and moves of lithe lips. He calms it down with broken up songs and hushed kisses of his cut off verses holding it closer with each whispered comfort-seeking chorus.
You'll make it through, you'll make it through
Cuts and bruises don't matter
The stone walls between us will barricade the hurt
The loss
The coyness
The hypocrisy
We'll run away
We'll go
His manic whispers turn into frantic cries as he spots the eyes dangling in the sky again, the pupils running wildly in their place, rotating violently like the cycle surrounding a black hole occluding a stray star.
The stares dug into his soul, the silence graved into his thoughts to the extent of madness, insanity, abandonment even. He abandoned his beliefs, his caution, his heart and ran.
The fist sized object resumed its beating to infinity as the hands dropped them as the feet scuttled away carrying the empty chest and hallowed mind; the catalyst had neglected the result and went away. The forsaken glory was not meant to be regained by lack of hope, belief, faith.
So his heart beats, and beats, and beats,
All alone.
Holding his panicked heart cradled within his trembling fingers, he continues walking.
Leave me alone! he cries out, I'm only a sinner; my halo fell with my pride, is that not enough for you?
With the tear stained object smeared in blood and filth in his arms; he skulks into the corner that no longer witnessed the beauty of multicolored dawns and smiling moons, the only thing remained was the taunting darkness and the ash topped grounds.
He sits and watches the illusions of past times walk by strutting in the star weaved cloaks he helped make once upon a time.
Wiping the racked liquids mimicking the tears that ran out ages ago, he wonders; he questions; he cries again.
Up he looks and down he falls, the eyes touting his every move hung there, in the middle of the sky, watching.
He pushes himself back to the dark, presses his back to the dark painted walls and lets himself fall. Get away from it all; get away.
The blemished signs bearing up his name for the world to see, the children calling his name, the printed words spelling his name; always his name.
His stomach twists and rives itself as he witnesses the controversy mangled from one mouth to another to create the monster that grappled the hearts of many, loose lips do sink ships; also, stab and disembowel the bodies of the so-called faith.
He has kissed the foreheads of their gullible innocence in forgiveness; words so mutilated and deformed can do so much to hearts of the young. Standing in front of the world beneath the glass he understood, they were lost, confused and hopeless; they needed some one to blame, some one to blacken his heart, to set on fire.
He had lost his powers, like the tired glass of olden windows loses its luster with time; he was walking on these dust ruffled grounds in his mortal image, shorn of all his superior hubris resembled in that riveting smile. The binding spell lying within his gestures and words vanished; they took it away.
His breaths are racing; the decaying smells of the gashes their words inflicted arose seeping in the sockets containing the air that swirls into never ending toxins resting in his suffering lungs. He's already crashed into the darkness, sensed its zest and delicacy. Maybe drowning isn't that bad after all...
So with somber words staggering from his numb lips, he whispers into his heart his words clogging up the wrung cracks decorating the bruised arteries receiving the hate endorsed doses that traveled throughout the touches of swift fingers and moves of lithe lips. He calms it down with broken up songs and hushed kisses of his cut off verses holding it closer with each whispered comfort-seeking chorus.
You'll make it through, you'll make it through
Cuts and bruises don't matter
The stone walls between us will barricade the hurt
The loss
The coyness
The hypocrisy
We'll run away
We'll go
His manic whispers turn into frantic cries as he spots the eyes dangling in the sky again, the pupils running wildly in their place, rotating violently like the cycle surrounding a black hole occluding a stray star.
The stares dug into his soul, the silence graved into his thoughts to the extent of madness, insanity, abandonment even. He abandoned his beliefs, his caution, his heart and ran.
The fist sized object resumed its beating to infinity as the hands dropped them as the feet scuttled away carrying the empty chest and hallowed mind; the catalyst had neglected the result and went away. The forsaken glory was not meant to be regained by lack of hope, belief, faith.
So his heart beats, and beats, and beats,
All alone.