Strife And Submission

From these dark and dismal hands
A tortured madman works the stars
Into patterns of bended light and pain
For the pleasure of only one to gaze upon them.
O, my hands have seen some unsettling things,
But my ears ne'r known such tribulations;
Where Cupid stood there now be snakes
Whose arrows pierce the heart in only
Lonely lengths to stretch the days away.
I have held my head so high in wait for answers
Now found vain and absent, true and tragic;
Distant and darkened
Out of crows' nests' not since bothered since their stir
And unsettlement from such heartbreaking cracks
In this fair atmosphere.
High on the hill
The artificial siren stands, writhing in gasps of
Forgetful wishes to forget such souls
As those whose hands lay waiting for the next
Bird of prey.