Once Upon A Shadow, Deep Inside A Dream

A Gothic Nightmare: Burning Blood Chronicles GODS

I move through the darkness and cry out in pain,
Though all the years I’ve spent, I have nothing to gain.
You envy me and watch me through hooded eyes,
And in the darkness, I abide the weight of your lies.

Blood pours through the wounds you self-inflict,
As I drink deeply of what you offer, I feel tricked.
Nothing in life is ever free; there is always a price,
I should know this, for, I have paid mine twice.

You do not see the darkness as I do for you trust light,
Though it’s sadness you experience, you do not fight.
I have fought the battle for life and lost, it’s only a flood,
Of sin, lust, darkness, and death, covered thickly in blood.

If you asked me to kill you I would not hesitate to do so,
For I can see the nectar within, can see your blood flow,
You speak my name and call me a sinner, for I am a whore,
Yet you allow me to touch you, kiss you, as passions soar.

Save your prayers for the dying, I am already dead.
Save your tears for the hungry, I have already fed.
My desires are lurking somewhere else, ‘tis better if I tell,
I have no need of Heaven for I already have Hell.

Sadness lingers upon my lips, leaving me thirsty and cold,
The shadows beside me are so familiar, their stories so old,
How often I’ve thought of dying, of letting life go,
It is a constant dream I view, though you may never know.

Mortals weep tears that dampen, but the goddess,
She weeps tears that bleed, is there a difference?
I have tasted temptation and I enjoyed its flavor,
I have joined the lost without seeking a savior.

Damn the Furies! I bathe in the blood of the innocent,
Oh, how they plague my heart and soul, how they’re rent!
But I have seen the blackness of your soul, beloved,
And I am at last made whole by your tainted blood.

There is a flood of tears that damn your eternal soul,
And painful whispers of lust that takes their mighty toll.
There is a cost for passion’s heat as I call out your name,
Writhing, dying, upon your bloody bed, full of shame.

Shouldn’t there be something pure and sweet at the end?
Shouldn’t I be allowed to see around the road’s next bend?
My eyes are open but there is no Heaven, no pearly gate,
There is only an intense hunger for blood tinged in hate.