The Whisper

My mind is all confusion.. whole new world of emotion.. intrusion
Never in my mind's eye, could see, attraction of one such as you
Never could imagine, a living soul stir my blackened heart
Is this a whole new level? Or my metamorphic into something new?
The psychology of I, as warped as the mind of a madman.

You're in my sights, I'm gazing unto you, I see fragments myself
A woman, breathes has my attention. Is this my heart's intention
Or something much more? A possessive plight for me, claim norm?
Never could've contemplated, infatuation you have cast unto me.
You've evolved over the many years, from a girl, mind of purity

To the tormented soul you've become, your journey, much like mine
Has intersected at the cross roads of time, feelings entwine
My experiences, we have much in common, I feel at ease with her
She understood harness infatuated mindset foolish man i've become
I muttered forced words, whilst my egos vex my love unconstrained

"Courtney, give yourself to me forever."

Hearing the whisperings of little wood critters, I feel something
Not knowing this feeling, I reach out for her, she turns her head
I lock into her stare, she has my full attention.. eagerly I wait
Her, tears, tumbling trickling through time, her emotions, waver
The winds, a sullen, anticipating silence

She raises her head before mine, I gaze with be-searching eyes
She has decreed her final verdict. She, for all her divinity
Have so denied to me, love capable of the healings of me in need
She scorns, her smirking grimace as vile as her beauty is divine
Casts me unto the flames, her verdict the execution

Oh that was many years ago, none would know, no, not a soul
As one is far to many, but so far in few, this love turned me
Into the beast.. have become, my love, my passion, pure in years
Has not wavered, has grown stronger with time, my insecurities
Infest, they have weakened my once so brilliant mind.

Now I am the molester of the dead, the vegan of necropolis.

My soul, has been tainted, caged, by my ego, this is false pride
Now I despise the navietie of love, and sustained to pessimism
For love I was sustained, it was the hand that fed unto me
Never again, be destined for he, his miserable hole, he resides
He may be alone, but always, atoned that comfortably numb feeling

The feeling.. of home.
By Necrophiliac Vagan