There was laughter in slow-drifting mornings
A breeze in cups brimming with calm
In each gesture, lightness resided
And time ran fearless, without qualm
There, where the day’s shard
Turned into glow through conversation
A young man radiant, loose in stillness
Toasted to the silence of haste
Then corrupted
Refuge of weary souls
Purity stained by the act
One that not even Judas could bear
I want your soul on the demon’s trident
As thunder of the unforeseen roared
His voice, now shaped like blades
Tore through the veil of profane and sacred
But among the laughter of worn-out gold
There’s always a thread that cuts in secret
Words dressed in tender disguise
Hide thorns within the context
And atop the peak of betrayal
Sweetness became a storm
Where once there was tenderness
Now a live ember lies proud and warm
They called him gently by name
But in rage, he no longer answered to it
And the most faithful so near to the whole
Were left distant, in a trivial split
I want your soul on the demon’s trident
As thunder of the unforeseen roared
His voice, now shaped like blades
Tore through the veil of profane and sacred
No plea could reach him
Nor hands grasp the spirit within
He was fury in crimson bloom
Remorseless, without a trace of wind
And in that refuge of weary souls
The thunder of the unforeseen roared
He, whose voice was once ignored
Impaled his enemy and silenced all
