The Melancholy Of Imagination by theheartofShanna, literature
Literature
The Melancholy Of Imagination
For I am damned beyond my last soul
For the sacred failure of god is simply my existence
The question is not whether I withered
But if I shall ever rid myself of the blood on my hands
Chorus
The red petals in my imaginary sky
Are the reality in only my mind
Swaying mountains, moving grass, purple clouds
A haunting dream that will be my endless Heaven
The colourful black that I live in
My breath breathes pure poison
Obscuring the lives of many around me
The ignorant shadows that have never had the right to live
Chorus
The blue flowers on my yellow grave
It all belongs in my simple head
That is where it rests
Along with the rest of my own re