The Essence of Mortality

There was scarlett on the roof,

there was scarlett on the door.

There was scarlett on the walls,

but there was black in my soul.

My mind denied furiously,

as my heart nodded acquiescence.

It was so deep a manifestation,

the Ravens of Madness overshadowed my sense.

And to me, justice would be scarlett,

only then would the roots of revenge quiver and be quenched.

And nothing seemed so deliciously dark,

as my madness, your soul, the sheets: scarlett drenched.

And gold poured out in waterfalls,

in thick steady streams of scarlett and brown.

Hell and Mortality conjoined at the heart,

As a lone soul cried in silent sounds.

And baleful lies floated like wisps of clouds,

and with smoky tendrils wrapped around,

a cold body,

six feet underground.

And true truth got clogged up,

in drains of envy and revenge.

And jealousy slowly spurned the scarlett to black,

and pathos started alighting in rage,

as Mortality left Morality rotting in it's cage.

02/21/19