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Perpetual Darkness:
It runs like a river.
It screams in our thoughts.
It goes further down than the diver.
It causes our minds to rot.
Why, how could anything do so much?
It causes us to fall prey to a rueful bunch.
Could it be that it comes from the heart?
Not just a thought from the start?
It ebbs away at sanity's center.
Breaking into all thought, to freely exit and enter.
Not to spend time as a renter.
How quizzically simple is its destruction wrought?

Burning Light:
How is it so bright?
How does it shine through the night?
How does it catch all flight?
As we run from wrong to right.
How brightly is it that this shines?
That it runs away from all things ours?
Could it be that we're not fine?
It washes over and covers over.
Over all darkness perpetual or not.

Spinning wings.
Such fine things.
Iron bars splayed with rings.
Doors are flung shut.
Such things are freedoms cut. 
from such things people lust.
There a man's furrowed brow rusts.
From here families adjust.
To know what is bust. (english word means broke. >.<)
Could it be possible to trust in the heat of a fire?

When it gets too hot for a fire. 
When a situation becomes so dire.
That its mire becomes impossible to make an escapade.
When all of life is speeding down a hopelessly delayed tunnel.
When it strains to far, it becomes angrily frayed.
When it craved more than it could handle. 
When it roars to a scream, frayed from beaming a burning fire.
Sent out for hire; Blown out like a candle.

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