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The Deceitful Vessel
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Vignette
The night is as empty as the portraits that paint these walls.
Catching a of glimpse of the end, I await, the, fall.
Buried in a basement of shame, viewing the world from the inside of my mind.
Veins coalesce in this chapel, so vignette that they are too hard to find.
Break the barriers, down. Until this fortress is diminished.
A soul, unbound. Now my uprising will be relentless.
The clouds rearrange. A sight, so strange, but then I realize,
Those clouds they symbolize pain. As blackness fills the sky.
This scene is so surreal, but I refuse, to let this memory slip away.
Are these dreams real or an unconscious perception of true reality?
Lost in a segment, of, my own mind.
Staring into the depths of my decline.
The darkness is so sublime,
But I, dwell there all the time.
Will I believe, that this is The Knowledge, calling to me?
Or something more obscene.
After all, this is only a dream.
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