I had a Vision
Now at the end of my Feast
It comes to show me
The Torture and is called
It emerges from the Black Sea
to confront my Banshee
With Guilt and Remorse
This Story whispering
How wrong is my being.
The Vision speaks to me
And controls what I see.
Where I want to be,
If not in your Seed,
That sadly will find its Place
Far from me!
The Vision laughs at my disgrace
my Shoes are made for different Feet
and not for the Ones
I so and eternally want for me!
I ask my Banshee to change the
Image of that Mirror in front of me
The Beast responds with irony to me,
You and me are not mean to be!
You and me will forever seek our Soul,
My Banshee holds it on the cold
Dark your Dimension far from me!
I beseech the Vision to let me free
And my Banshee turns against me
Leaving me on the Hands of
this Vision whose name is the Beast!