Blanketed by romance
In the third degree
Burns upon my molten skin.
And I’ll kiss my own wounds, under the sun,
As the monster I have become.
She sung her praises aloud
To me, the blamed fiend.
When rivers stream their run of lava
To the bloody lakes below.
When beauty mocks perplexity
As my madness against her sadness,
I’ll forever receive the burning glow.
In the darkness around,
I see my reflection only in the shallows.
I see what I’ve done,
And it relates to me, in my mind, in my endless grind
Through life, with an endless design.
To see pain, with a ruined shine,
Of no sun, but the moon I can no longer find.
What pain blossoms, from a heart that cannot feel,
What desires settle, in places unable to heal.
Why is there blame
In realms there is only ever shame?
In places where shame
Does not want to resist.