A demon not yet encrypted by me,
Is an image depicted that I have to see.
How led is my mind and fragile my hand,
To produce only nonsense when I let it flea.
Run from the castle and shift all your focus
To the sacred details you want to be noticed.
Frozen in creation with my minds participation
Sprawled out like pages yet to be opened.
It simmers my skin and shatters my bones
Dipped in a river of Styx and Stones
And brings forth a feeling that's making me loath.
White empty pages just sit on that table
Like an animal in a cage waiting to roam.
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