how is life defined, is it within those illusions of joy so often found, perhaps within the lies mankind has woven, perchance its found in the naive reassurance one provides, with hope it will not exist.

I am my worst enemy and my only friend, my treachery maintains itself upon me, and with cruel words I step unto the altar placed for my own reckoning.

Nothing is in bloom, the soul shrivels, the heart is held back from the sun, the spirit sapped by syphoning weeds, and love begins to wilt, and I remain in this cold decay of the flowerpot of the world.

No force so great as to break the walls of reason,
no triumph shall be seen,
the harsh demeanor of salvation cannot be seen complete,
the anger in her eyes, the grace she once has known,
the abandonment to her children, the god whom now has flown.

This armor i wear weighs me down, Its protection holds me back, the great gravity for safety's worth cannot be said shown, I hide behind the shield, encase myself in steel, and cast myself from worldly blades and battles all have known