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The black knights ride their steeds, And the hooves kick up the dirt. The village is lit afire and the screams, Ring throughout the night. Shouting and yelling stings the air, And fear burns our nostrils. The world around us is anarchy, Our flesh burned in sync. We have fallen far from grace, And live
A rose, flush loose petals, Reaching towards the light. A gentle breeze dances Across her leafy blight. Fiber by fiber torn away, Dwindled by a standard. One so carefully instilled, With every whispered word. No longer in touch, With what is natural, Blinded by hatred, And far from factual. Wilted by the cold, From life
A twinkle in her glassy pupils, Sparkles when she looks at me. Older and wiser now, But still sprung in her mind. Calmer with age, But no less beautiful, Than the day we first met. I wonder what she thinks of us, Now; does she still see, The little girl I was? Could she still
We are the silence, We thrive in the cold. We are the standard, You must uphold. We live in the shadows, We watch your every move, We are the parasite You cannot remove. Some think we don’t exist, Others believe we rule the night, But we are something, Much more than fright. We feed on
Sy Redemption 