Tainted Souls

Lost souls in the midnight crowd,

Sit around lit fires and black smoke,

They tell tales of distant places,

Of other scales and different faces,

And past lives, wandering in empty spaces

 

Curious faces stare up in deep fascination,

Random ears perk up and still,

Caught in the alluring confines of the dark,

As they drink away their incessant misery,

And wash away their ill-fated luck,

Lost in the glowing sparks of fire and lore

 

The Lost glory in the brevity of the moment,

So far away from their precedent torment,

They bask in their ascension to near divinity,

Where their dark chronicles are accepted,

And their hideous scars are no longer so mortified,

 

Finally, with the dull embers of a dying fire,

Drifting away in the piling layers of ash,

Heads droop low and welcome the shadows,

Exhausted eyes shut and climb to shady dreams,

The Lost gaze upon the figures, rolled up in perfect seams,

Their pure thoughts now filled with dark essence,

Welcoming hearts now corrupted with the shared pain,

Innocence defiled and trickling down murky paths of rain

 

And The Lost, they soar even higher,

Gliding on their evil wings of treachery,

Inside they bleed for the sins they leave behind,

Inside they heal for every soul they blind,

Faded and empty, blessed with a curse.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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