Untitled Poem 2 - Transfixed by your stained soul...

Transfixed by your stained soul An icy wind of cruelty Sweeps from your heart Over our freshly dug graves Cracking the purity of the sky Silenced by the Sphinx’s riddle How good wombs borne such horror Bewitching our golden pastures Now long overgrown I reflect upon your obscurity Your opaque soul Through the depths a crimson stream runs frozen As the artic winds blow till they burst thy wind We are caught between reality and mirage In a most unholy dance The fruit of passions you have long consumed Your eyes forever glossed