|picture credit: http://browse.deviantart.com/?q=reach&order=9&offset=72#/d2st3wk|
'twas the voice of evil spirits loudly rumbling in her head,
that decided fate the day when the clouds were tinged with red,
driving her to edge of reason far beyond accepted norm,
carelessly surrendering to the deeds that cause you harm.
And she lay down on the smould'ring bed of fire and it spread,
to the confines of the sacred heart where no one dares to tread,
seeing in her mind's eye tears turn to acid and deform
everything that she once cherished, yet she was beyond reform.
So she sank into the dusk of the waters laced with lead,
on a path that's sure to take her to the lowest of seabed,
while the frantic pleas from lovers stead'ly faded in the storm,
left her soul in desp'rate need for a breath, just one, of calm.
'twas the voices of the angels that pierced fin'ly through her head,
woke the need to live and banish from her soul the clouds of red,
driving her to push away from the edge towards the dawn,
yielding to the longed for arms, to their warmth, to which she's drawn.