Entrails to prophecies In retrospect the soul that is left benign to seek solitude cradled in the divine. Searching for improvement within an individual the reflection in the mirror is truly mine. Less the word observed rendered upon the landscape Equal in our measure The shortest day it’s light shall be like treasure If the voice calls to emanate The darkness within the soul Resonates with sounds of surrender

no guts no martyr angelical archer dark ages armor antique harbor

satire Welcome to Florida We are ready to welcome you with open arms

maybe 2 So who is counting?

live by the pen should we die by the sword yet shall we remain undaunted questioning our answers never knowing the reason why we ,you and I do not face this alone

an although the words may differ and the path may not be the same though the world may not except the truth it is for us sometimes to show it the way

sometimes I sit in this roaring silence staring into the flames remembering a life that has past love that never last tears on my hands what is the point in all the pain dreams that never came true for people like souls I never knew I am just the walking dead in light of crimson blue time keeps on walking our fears no ones talking just as well ,silence is golden 💔 scream the words unspoken dreams that never came true

Knowing what is right and wrong and doing it anyway Asking the tough questions then ignoring the answers putting all your eggs in one basket then leaving it all behind and it’s true

facing uncertainty the sign read the wonderful land of oz or bust guilt runs rampid in the ranks thumb on the hitchike and the questions stink unrighteous justice or faceless atrocities and bombed out alleys the tired tormented masses Temples don’t bow down to me illuminating shadows this road is no home for the meek falling past midnight draped in linen rags and a wash of rain the easel of my eyes