Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Recluse Spider



Wallowing in the fields of sorrows again for the thousandth time.
In the shadows of gloom this soul remains, armed with a voided heart and a jaded mind.


Love; an infectious emotion that can break the purest of hearts.
There's a place to where one can astray, a poverty of hope turning numb and love is pain.

Where morality holds no value, is no treasure.


Closed doors once open, locked by the key of dismay.


Rejection; the birth of relentless thoughts that will destroy from within.
Refuge has no existence. Just burned ruins of a sanctuary that once reigned.


Integrity; abandoned by naive eyes.
Masks worn to cloak the truth. Meanwhile those of purity are left deserted, casted aside.

Left screaming at the same old walls.
This is to the deaf ears of the forlorn calls.