Vārdi: I:Scintilla. Optics. The Bells.

The fade proof lines that define status and meaning are illegible
Too thin to read
I?ve lost radiance under petals and softer words

The vine bleeds divine screams
Do your wings make a sound?
Sometimes I swear I can hear them
You left poison mercury dreams
Will you reveal what it means?

Taste the potency of your deadened knowledge
The decline through sifting perils forces you under
Stretch past the shattered arrows

The vine bleeds divine screams
Do your wings make a sound?
Sometimes I swear I can feel them
The florescent lighting does nothing to keep you from hiding

With a quiet strength behind my heels
I have discovered where footsteps are placed
Placed among the constellations
I will keep the missing keys and disregard the staircase tragedies