Thoughts of a Gypsying Fantast

In memory of the hero who was killed by his pen: The waves of the sea swallowed me Just like how I was swallowed by reality That I could never ever be you What you did, I couldn't do. All I have are words, more spoken than written Miserably miserable I don't have your pen- The same one that had planted bullets in your heart And that scene is one hell of an art. Yet the sea whispered things so beautiful- Things written in their shades of cool, That I, too, can act out of love And write with ink out of my own blood.

The Serpent had buried his teeth into my flesh, he had shown one of his forms- It wasn't the scaly beast in the lake of fire Nor the dark malicious matter floating in the air It was disguised as the most beautiful angel, as he once was. He flaunted his air of superiority His smile of charming manliness, he displayed And what am I but a gullible poor girl, I was totally and helplessly swept away. And there was that crisis to save both mother and brother, And this Enemy turned up seated on his chair smiling at me With a deal he was more than happy to offer Then damned or doomed, all the same, I'd be. He took out a contract, I didn't bother to read I was desperate, mother and brother were both in danger, I waited for a pen, there was no pen needed No pen could ever sign those papers. To seal the deal, all that was necessary was a kiss And so we kissed-  short but burning I fell on my knees, all strength left me And with whatever sorcery he raised me up sta

If she could parse whatever's going on inside her She would have understood that Darkness and all, Instead she proclaimed a stabbing statement: "You're no love of mine at all!" And when I heard that, words had left me She then turned into a bird with roseate feathers, But her eyes were as black as the night sky, Cold, empty, bleak- light-forsaken altogether. She crushed our little world in her hands She annihilated everyone that made her remember The kindness, the mercy, the life, the love Which once upon a time, lived in her. And I, locked up in her dungeon Found comfort in the company of the mice, Clad in the gloom, silenced for eternity I was nothing but a sore in her eyes. But lying here, I still remember it all- The light in her eyes before this pitiless horror, How a gentle soul radiates behind her genuine smile, How benevolent she was before this reign of terror.