Birds, falling to their death.
Hostage to an incendiary subconscious, leafless I laid, bewildered from battle.
Plagued by ghastly apparitions, this chronicle of bloodshed and strife.
Do I rest upon the seam amid Arcadia and Gehenna?
Marred optics illustrate ficticious bearings as I grope at the arcane devoid.
Content to renounce my soldier's oath, I bow down and embrace my treacherous fate. Yet what prevailing fortune? Make my lucid droplets dissipate to bring forth, all three.
Tender disruption, what do you seek? My soul is infected with miserable abandonment. A fruitless endeavor describes these years, the struggle.
Oh gentle song bird, your strengths are personified by the feats you have conquered.
All is found, for you are that, of ones cherished, within our realm.
Vacate this burnt and tarnished aviary, a triumphant birth is upon you.
Rise! Ascend from a rotting cadaver and embed thy earthenware grip in divine reach.
Take course, for the manifesto of continuum is cunning and your inception is on the horizon.
"This is only the begining".
