So now, I watch for you. I keep a notebook full of my paranoia. But I will bring it to court on the day I see you. And someday I will hunt you down, and I will bash in your teeth and I will set your lungs on fire.
You heartless ghost. You drive such fear into me. You heartless ghost.
Staying on this planet, suffering is standard. Where am I to go, how am I to leave? These bloody hands are my memories. When I get stuck here, when I am waiting, where are your promises stored? What canvern must I search, from what fountain can I draw hope?
I have been decieved my King. I am waiting for the breeze to touch me again. I am waiting my Lord, for the rage to quit its game. I wonder if this is what you intended for me? This old and hollow forest isn't my home.
My home has no witch overseeing my heritage, in my home, witches don't curse my family name. Its hard to believe that home exists. That it is somewhere. The idea that somewhere I dont have to hear the bloody cries of my family.
Though I fear, that my family may cry eternally. I don't know. I do fear.
I fear that witch may have her day, that she may have her way. That my torch wasn't built to destroy. And that blackbirds gaze wont hold her back.
King, if I were blessed, if I could ever ask for blessing, for favor. I would ask that THAT WHORE OF BABYLON, not lay her hands on blackbird.
I shutter when I remember my vision of her hands on blackbird. But I understand your message.
Dark cannot stand within the light.
At times, even that is abstract to me. But you would always wrap your arms around me, protecting me. I can feel your warmth, your security. Even in these hollow woods. Haunted with these God-forsaken memories.
Though whenever, I search for you I find you.
And I wonder, how God-forsaken are they?
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