When Reverie Was At Variance With Reality

August 3, 2010
When reverie was at variance with reality, how I,
Oh how I cried out, cried out in such bitter anguish;
My vision blurred temporarily, and what horrors I beheld,
What terrors my senses had taken in, and I truly feared;
A rank stench filled my nostrils: the scent of blood pervaded,
And the air, so heavy with the foul smell of bloodlust, clung;
I saw the sky so dark, so cold, and the masses fall beneath it,
My hands stained crimson, with your heart within my grasp;
Constantly, I strove to wake from this illusion, yet could not,
My throat felt as if it were a desert; agonizing pain racked my body,
How I writhed in torment, and every moment felt like years;
Desolation was spread out before me, and then I heard a sound,
Bloodcurdling shrieks, and in horror I watched the multitude slain;
Such terror drove me to madness, and I beheld my image upon glass,
Blood painted my features and my eyes stared back, scarlet;
Utter insanity had overtaken me, and I yelled, I screamed “Why?!”
Then I saw the dark abyss that was my heart, and it grieved me,
Falling to my knees, my face in the dirt, I bellowed “I repent.”

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