Tonight there is no magic in the stars.
These shakes and quakes that plague me have stolen my soul,
Like the blacken crows that pluck
Out the eyes of this heart woefully fluttering whispers of healing praise.
No, they are not of glassen heart that trembles in the dark as if some godly torment crushes the boys soul.
For what deal with the devil have you made my poor son?
Nothing fills the darkest night not even the blacken ash of Hells fire can ignite the flame, for it is green with envy of another lovers, lover heart of hearts.
As the boy cries empty from the hallways and the bed flames of love that has gone quiet in the night, feels like so many years ago.
Will these borrowed bones not break from the strain of such a heavy heart?
As the music of century’s old tries to weep…
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