Pens and Pages

Of outbursts and outcries of myths and lies in that gentle veil of silence the love so pure, dies The heart wails and it bleeds for all it couldn't get and all it needs And he's punished he's torn for all that is red for all he had worn  There were wounds there were scars and he was tied behind the bars Oh, there was laughter and there was cure there was lunacy and there was lure There was lust on top of hatred's pile there were the unfulfilled desires and a wicked smile Oh, there was freedom there was salvation but he knew it cannot die not his own creation On the path of oblivion lied his grave, treacherous and so he awaited, unaware of the fate precarious...