My Aura.

I drag death, with the questionable out come in my hands, Evidence is evident only to my eyes, Cuts to the conscience dies in desolate strands. Yet the truth is floating idle in thousands of lies. My words are cryptic, only outlined to my being, Embraced grace, subtracted when violent, Split personalities confer for the picture your seeing. Begin the drums as i shout and God remains silent. Ink blotches mark my soul as accidents tend, Descend as my aura reaches your chest and stains, Pain only i can seem to mend. Because i am constant, and my word remains. Fall deeper into my hands as i play my instrument, Let go of your soul and melt, Never again fall for any fools gold they might implement. Because i will replace any past feelings felt. My aura.