A box, like a room with no souls
Just pieces and possessions of random memories
Like a glass safe, carrying a broken lock
Allowing curious eyes to wander inside to discover its contents
Silver tones are sometimes shades of grey
And gold can seem ever so mondane
Ruby red is not always fierce

In the Name of Beauty, Let Them Talk

With white wings made of light, luminous, she floats
As gracefully as proudly she moves; with vain pleasure
Surrounded by echoes of anticipation
Her ambition as her greatest weapon
Her devotion as her greatest charm
Her pale visage her greatest power
Her ember eyes her greatest treasure
They applaud beauty where they witness it, 't is clear...
And why should they not?
A civil sign of innocent energy it is,
That should never be forgot
So, if their words turn a harsher shade
Then, dearest, mind them not.

Our immortal souls
Stranded in a desert of despair
Where strange hands take hold of our hearts
And perfect stillness chills the air...
Our misguided eyes
Left to roam this wretched earth
Where poison is my hope's companion
And doubt drains all of joy and mirth
- Then in the ashes of my love
I am planning my rebirth...

Sitting in the same chair
Anxious ambitions raise my heart
Staring into the silence
The one that watched us part
Enjoying a sense of nausea
As candlelight fills up the room
Outside it may be getting darker
But my mind is stuck in noon
For the wall holding the flower
Only blushes towards the moon