Still I'm too weak to stay,

to grow the roots of my darkness

anywhere that's not my castle,

far from the cemetery

that lays silent

and hidden by the towers.



Occasionally I find myself

at the top of the

high walls coverd in mistique,

sneaking like a wraith

as something within the fortress

is utterly asleep.



I waste my time gazing

beyond a concrete grown in ivy,

I'd rather be there

averting my gaze from inside

where everything

is up in flames.





I know what's waiting for me

when I go back,

guess that's why I always...