Permit my mind to enter the halls of my own Valhalla. I submit to you the loyalty of my hand which I am to be not dependent of, only to be of the servant of the blade for the love of a kingdom I thee not entertain nor to be of service.
By Testabout a year ago in Poets
Hail ancestral voices, hail. Hail bygone era of symbolistic living. Hail mighty living and learning; there you are, their they are,
There I stood; Face to face; Tooth and nails; to see the incoming slaughter and kept on raging my own warmth. . . to know I can.
Synapses triggered Completely acquired to bake emotionally. This I take seriously and personally. Yet one thing remain the same,
So its in, no matter how much of emo, I am in. No matter how much short this one piece in one minute. Every one wants shorter than before.
Random thoughts of this I have seen. So much things left to clean. Have I noticed that I did see to fit it in to be seen.
Tell me a weight of the world in your screaming past. Stuck is the ways that wont solve anything that will make the day away.
Back, back, back. . . Turn back. Doubt is on the loose. Noh, I am just tracing the years, to turn back for me is never the doubt that gave me my life.
I see none, I hear none I speak none. Yet the environment screams. I see none, I hear none , I speak none. Yet the skies yells and scolds my arms.
Where is my sun? As moments grew in the minute of my second, years flew. Your memories are a constant thing to me as this
Hear the sounds of the shores, As I hear that dragon snore. Where is my shoe that I threw once I saw that feeling of being new.
Too much of once, too much upon a tail of the tales. Whereas the love of a quest is not a good yet the scheme is much more grandeur.