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Deep within the Womb
grows loneliness.
The trees of fate die cold and alone,
Silent night of desperation
chained to a wall
the shadows become reality
re-awaken to the cry.
Sun blazed amongst His ashes
spirit clinging to ideals,
useful terms of shame filled lashes
closed door of makeshift castles.
Deep within the Womb of the world
there grows a child’s innocence.
Time and Fate divide what’s left of it,
living in the rotten cold
lonely hearts fever for so much more.
Dreaming of the Womb,
homes longing to return.
Melodies of so much more,
the trees of fate cold and broken
worn and torn beneath fates hand,
clasped by time dreaming of a child,
dreams of a child,
the child of a dream,
innocent and alone
pure and tainted,
lovely and broken,
the Womb harbors loneliness
dreams of children in beautiful bliss.
Deep within the root of humanity lays a sleeping child
lives a dreaming child,
dies a lonely child.