A solemn lullaby
The struggle of sanity and correlating doom, the cards of a joker in faces of blue.
Beyond compression of a horrible plot. The solemn sins I swore down and sought. Behind the white angel a cloth of distraught.
A fear of consumption and terror so true. The sins Of the path toying and tethering on a hair thin as glass. Bestowed upon humans for centuries of rot. A playful united front of a war colored of black.
Beyond the conception of a life filled with laughs. How could this be? What is the sanity I held onto a peace, but tainted by lies.
“To the moon & back” were the words of the devil. holding on to a war front slowly falling fast. A rinse and repeat act of terror. Ever collecting till the collection was numb.
Pushing and pulling, fighting and dying, to die on this hill, or to die as a viking. A warrior so broken and destroyed by life, was there hope for me, or a deduction of might.
A white noise room, swallowed By lies, to act as perfection and swallowed in cries. Beyond the emptiness I could do something within, was it a reaction of purpose? Or an action of sin.
A man in white cloth, but blue lights uncovered the truth, of a man in rags, with a single white tooth. Broken and battered by The war front he fought. Considering dying, was an outlet he caught. Fighting and crying till his hands were red. A final push for the enemy was dead.
![The Moon's Weapon : the cursed mate [ MOVING TO GALATEA]](https://cdn-gcs.inkitt.com/vertical_storycovers/ipad_123f31099804e79c6de11657975bcaae.jpg)
