Deep within the Garden of time, I'm alone in the cold winter wind trying to find. A flower, a memory, something that can help ease this strain of my insanity. Just a minute or two, is all that I'm really asking from you, you don't even have to say a word, just let me touch your face, I don't care if it is blue. On a moments notice this glass monolith could shatter, sending us to our grave and under, yes even further. I'm just trying to understand, please you must take my hand, I seem to refuse to leave you in this barron wasteland. I could not turn my back and watch you become eveloped in the blistering cold sand. I appear to seep within the cracks of the walls, into another world, into, another void. I come to find this a resolution, yet at the same time, a Morbid revelation. Could this be the revolution I was seeking all along? I awaken to a cold hand, clutching my own, I start to speak before I realize anything, before my surroundings are known. I come clean unto this cold clutch, and then I gather my soul, mind and eyes, I have come to the conclusion I'm just fine. Your hand holding mine. My pale faced, Demoness, touching all of my numbness, and warming me, to remove my foolishness, like the disease that it is. |