What we hide beneath the mask,
can only bring sadness and death.
The death of a love or else in a cask,
of the putrid smell of alcoholic breath.
To others a mean to surrender the past,
forget, forget, we all must be.
The pursuit to cling the former cast,
Shall scar your mind gone free.
Parry butterflies that swarm in your thought,
Lost and delude and gone from light.
To the darkness, it won by default,
Before the stain that blind such sight.
And before the dream that appear to eye,
The nightmare that soon then followed,
It has come, by right, to ask you to die.
For it slowly craves to unfold.
To many, we all by right to keep,
The pain, the truth, the false.
And many that dwell in a dream of deep,
That send a shock in a pulse.
For there was a tale of a little girl,
who spoke the dialect beast.
She would soon remember of this world,
That none would come to feast.
So pray and tell me: how do you want to go?
Would you suffer before the tiny narrow bolt.
The bolts who bring, evidence to show,
Their voices would sing in rage of volt.
Would sight and hear result a perspective?
A truth that we haven’t discover.
Sadly, I stand and watch and be active,
For her tale was soon be over.
Let me show you Secrets… by NanoMortis