In the Beginning
Taunting Winter's became the seasons in life, for most of us
Various their storms have proudly brewed; running
As fast as we can within tiny circles, we have thus so ran
Innocent precious babies; oftentimes, these little eyes
Flowing with salty tears; if in fact but a metaphor could bleed ?
It's myriad of somber moments; about as around our heart's
Spiraling these rains; drenched aneath such pain; they say
That two wrongs never make a right; fires which beget flames
Burning swords still melting amid, timeless hands...
Battle cries, calling unto shadows bent; falling upon stained knees.
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