Like Clockwork
This poem was written way before I'd seen Spiral or knew anything about Spiral. But after re-reading it after my Spiral-watching spree, I've realized that this really can pertain to the Blade Children and their outlook on life, hope, death, and everything else damnation has forced them to go through.
Disclaimer: Yeah, um, no, Spiral is not mine. So you can't be petty and sue me. (Although I can't see why you'd want to…I own lint, some string, maybe a few nuts…)
Broken memories, impaled upon shards of glass
Distant futures…tangled destinies amass.
A heart-wrenching sob, a thrilling scream—
A desperate struggle for a forsaken dream.
Thinly-woven altruism within a shell of malignance,
A martyr's suffering…and a devil's brilliance.
The dripping of crimson into a vortex of night,
Cannot be saved through the intervention of light.
A harbinger of hell, heralding damnation outside,
Yearns for heaven, but by torment will abide.
Countless grains of shadow within countless shattered breaths,
A resounding summons for resounding deaths.
Apocalyptic notions within a heart of ice,
A force luminescence cannot hope to entice.
The descent of hope into the deepest bowels of perdition,
A distant requiem…but to which rendition?
The thawing of snow through a trial by fire,
Collecting leaves await their pyre.
Forever entwined in a cycle of choice…
Forever seeking laughter and the chance to rejoice.
But a white lamb can easily be led astray,
Out of its shelter and into the fray.
A raging war for power over Fate,
Its circumvention? Too little, too late.
