Delusions Dead

Another spur of the moment thing. Can be interpreted in different ways, but I think its about people hiding behind lies and fantasy, but sooner or later they have to face the truth, however unappetizing that is.

Born from a womb of fear

It stretches worthless paper wings

And sighs

 

Twining serpents dance

To music our reflection hears

To tones that change the color of our souls

 

Merciless, time passes by

Stripping away another layer of mystery

Eroding the armor of delusion

 

He clutches the book to his chest

Feared words playing across a timeworn face

Remnants of what has been misplaced

He reads it all aloud

And drapes us in an unholy shroud

 

There is here and there is nullity

We bask in the brilliance between

And cling to the edge of the well

Bait above a well hidden Hell

Don't fall

Not here, not now.

Delusions dead, it opens its mind

And reluctantly, so do we

Born from the womb of fear

Both strain to find a place in the afterglow

Of cataclysm.

The End

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