the black roots
so dead and cold
they twirl around you
they begin to hold
tighter and tighter they wrap around
slowly rising up from the ground

the darkness of the gnarley vines
they shimmer, glimmer, twirl, and twine
only this facade could be so devine
behind that mask is a feeling that basks
basks in not light
but the cold darkness of the dreary night

it is an evil that does not rest
it only continues to do its best
it looks for something to latch upon
as its black roots become so strong
its facade there, forever long

As it's growing we move on never knowing
knowing what harm has been done
the evil has so sheepishly won

It will grow inside where all your emotions currently hide
and your soul has quietly died
so quiet that no one is aware
aware of this dangerous feeling you bare
because of the pleasant mask you wear

although it does well to cover
you do not realize, your being smothered
by this ficticous root in your heart
where all the blackness began to start

Spreading

reaching deep into your soul
a blackness so dark much like the color of coal
when finally it reveals itself
only at i's strongest, in good health
then will the evil take its grasp
finally filling you, the glamour gone at last
the darknes takes control
its depression and it's filled your soul.