Masked Isolation

Fire lust of the angry clouds doth cover envy To fork the stars upon my ever-changing view. The crestling being i endure to hold of many Foreign thoughts to translate a bonafide rue. Carnival of lights leave me starstruck In a haste no more than that of my gloom. No one who knows of this life are stuck, In a waste of bittersweet cloves that bloom. As I sink down to the combers of lies Nevertheless leaving my soul to him. This monster of foreign carnage dries To a crisp, no longer able to freely swim. Finally feeling a soft touch upon my flesh, Where is this pale longing rose of red I dread? This flying repent of lustful notions is all I thresh. Please let me fly with you in this land of the dead. Denies of my request shows to me how I feel, Still though, carrying me much higher and higher. This resentful flock of gloomy encumbers peel My skin I weary of angry clouds doth burn a fire.