The Quiet Storm

A storm is coming,
A spiral of conversion;
Broods from the core of stone-wielded luster

Yes, a storm is certainly coming...
Feel the surge
Rapidly we reach for clenched hands to save us
...and we see ourselves for the first time as the ones we truly are,
As we bleed, as we die

Hands emaciated folds around our hearts
As we stand in line to leave this life;
To embrace the fear,
To wear the crown of an empire never meant to be
Walking in circles,
Reaping the afterglow

A human affliction drowning the undertow
I'd rather understand from where my tears derive,
To accept the sadness of knowing and
Relieving the long lost hope
Than pursue the tarnished ways of man

But we exist here... and we cry at night..."