My Round Table

Internal load of heretics,
Quell this chemical uprising,
My insides wont stay the same for long.

Demons sewn in the veil,
Well suited and bound to arms,
Ill fit, but its worn as a three piece.

Shogun of the mind,
Tears could rend all but flesh,
Draw your blade on the mirrored whetstone.

Accuser in a bottle,
Stoic warped reflections,
The glass might last as long as you.

Night's chosen hero,
Driven sane by his quest,
Seeking madness through experience.

Monochrome convict,
The cage is just a concept,
Scratching on the void just seems desperate.




Here are the original notes for this piece which eventually became the above:

Inner voices stirred by love, rabble v rabble
 recycled literally and figuratively to the next
Mistakes and traumas worn like Armour, an incomplete but ongoing set, maybe shines and collectibles
The voice of violent reason, guided and molded by ????entropic??? sadness
Bottled feelings given life inside, maybe reflected in said glass
In the darkness writing for the self gives self centered clarity
Things arent allways black and white but we are bound to one or th other, sometimes both
but on the gran scheme of things the black and white misses out pretty much every other color