There's No Cure To Love-Sickness
Today again the sky darkens.
Sympathising with my mood, sympathising with my heart.
Today again the sky cries.
Blood pours from the dying, a waterfall of conscience from my heart.
Today again the thunder strikes.
A flash of light, and the red stained his pure hands.
Enough.
You should not have come. Should not have seen.
For this burden is mine and mine alone and though I know you are a demon, this sin is mine to carry. Do not stain the hands of my loved one's any further.
It is enough. Today again we bask in the sunlight peeking through the grey.