Dark crimson skies;


Even intriguing,

desert fires . . .

Burning inside the soul,

Insisting on what you know;

Dreams that haunt your every being,

Casting you aside . . . For something else . . .

Fear everlasting

In the depths of a soul,

Almost like a mountain of ice,

It can't melt without collapsing . . .

It can't feel love,

Without falling.

It can't see the true person,

Or the true dreams of nature . . .

It can't feel the pain of never knowing,

right or wrong . . .

It can't measure the lengths,

of the human mind . . .

It can't feel the anger,

That rises in our hearts!

It can't feel anything;

All it can feel is that it exists. . .

But yet when the mountain melts,

And is no longer a mountain,

Can it still be called majestic?

Or is it after all a dream?

Please review, oh and thanks TigeR.eye for helping me with this!