Torn apart by their own emptiness
The breaking point of the withered rose
And the cries of the lost lover.
These are the darknesses that surround us
Which infect the clouds above
And rain down Angel's solemn hymns
The edges of the blade
That sink in past the rib cage.
The reason the moon shines brighter
Than the unrelenting sunshine;
He watches ink spill out of a pen
Like blood washing over paper.
The masterpiece resting within the mind,
Like the headstone of a Tomb.
He watches through a glass at a crow
Gazing like a judge in the wind
The voice that surrounds
Breath from the darkness
In flicking candle light silently speaking
Illuminating the eyes like memories
When the crow spreads its wings and flies away.
It has been four weeks of suffering with the eternal burden of writers block. The wonders of school related stress has caused the arrogance of mental block. It had stolen, blocked and locked the words in an unreachable vault somewhere in the depths of my mind. This is a letter of apology to all of you lovely people. I hope you enjoyed the first thing after my writers block. Please forgive me for my absence, I hope that my writers block to have been annihilated and to return to at least one post every week or so. Enjoy.
Invidus." - Authors Note 79