The Dark Artist
Death,
A fate foretold
Since the beginning of time
Master of time,
Misunderstood,
And feared by many.
Some say your power is a curse
Some a blessing
Emancipator of souls,
Bestow freedom
On my poor soul.
Trapped in this prison of torture
Called a body,
Which places limits on my true potential
I understand you,
Hiding behind broken hearts
Are benevolent intentions,
A noble purpose
Bringer of peace,
You give rest
to those tired.
You free those soldiers
Trapped in a game of kings
A dark artist.
I see the beauty in your work.
With your scythe
You paint a masterpiece,
With your scythe
You write a magnificent tragedy.
You are the perfect ending
To our tragic story
Copyright © Andres Rocha | Year Posted 2014
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