How has it that suffering has placed a crown,
On this starved mind, enclosed in a shell?
When I saw a face, that was yours,
I drew weariness away from that mind,
And the gems grew a brilliant luster.
Am I not the pain that lingers,
Upon your reddened lips?
Am I not the darkness that incurs,
Due to the flowers that die at every step?
I am, for this is when we have united.
I am the sight that you have seen,
Whilst drinking the perfumed wine.
I am the red on your mouth,
The gleam on thy arms,
And the enemy who never allows for innocence to return.
As such becomes an emotion,
Monochrome and melancholy.
I look to clouds so full of grey,
And find my kind, alike to you, among the shapes,
That fall and climb, and soon to climb upwards, again.
I beg you to take me down from this weariness,
To where there are demons that writhe,
So that I may belong to them.
And so that I may cling to thy knees.
For I am nothing more than a broken felon.