MitsugiTheShinobiCat

There's a darkness growing Deep and loathing It unnerves me to how much It has grown The seeds have already sewn It grows within like a withering tree It's decaying branches bearing fruit Deep blood red they continue to blossom My mind nearly gone The last mask to be sewn on Death peers into my eyes The windows to my soul, beckoning To come home, but yet But I am not ready to come home just yet There's still work to be done There're still people to love I cannot yet leave them be Even if darkness is all I can ever see

Rising higher and higher Under planes of snow Deep and vastless as an unconditional thought No longer will the meek Seek a well buried, broken Underneath coalescing water conceal Shudder breathless while parched Body and blood fuse: a soul Stray and pay the toll Running backwards...further and further Dreams dissapate in a world unknown on my own alone I shall wait.

Revert back to shadow, to nothingness A ghost once more I found out I am not meant to soar This daily facade this chore, my frustration Thus a demonstration of this old habit I developed it, I nurtured it, it makes me weak I know what I seek; It's not what I wanted all along At night huddled in my blankets I weep because I know the truth I know what I must do. I gained many friends and acquaintances   Seeking emotion, seeking something worthless I became lax, unfocused, forgetful, arrogant I thought talent alone could get me by Deep, deep down in an iron cage, locked and bolted, My rage keeps a tinier box still, a locket h

Set the Night on Fire A tear splashes down Producing an indefinite fragile sound Tangible, its own emotion--concrete A metallic earthen smell, the mark of shame, scars of one name. A withering tree, gnarled and warped Spreads its branches towards the ground Underneath barely stands an edifice A decaying body, devouring This tree's nutrients. Leaves scatter brown and crumbling As wind whips its scourge What gave life, gives death. Pulsing roots entwine and appendages writhe Soft dusty light seeps through the catacombs depth Severing the cord, its mother dies Knowledge sways, this seed of a millenium decays Snow, stained with

Negative needles weep, and a trillion drops leak Forming a pattern becoming a giant lantern Upon its pedestal low to the ground Guides its master back underground in his tomb Without the light would spell his doom Crouching breath, audible, stethoscope over the womb Soon out of its cocoon.

Revert back to shadow Become a ghost once more Become fluid as water Invisible and weightles as air Meek and humble Relax and breathe Let those emotions seethe.

Beat down, sprawled on the ground, shaking, whimpering. "No one will help you," a shrill, cold voice whispered. "Ha ha. Even your mother died trying to protect you, a worthless piece of shit. Your father was no better because he hired me. He hired me to dispose of a worthless son with so many ailments, but your mother was not a part of the deal. Like I care, anyhow, well, since you dumb asses who think you can fight, I will let you try." Moon light that haunted the hit man's face showed that she was a woman. Her eyes seemed crazed, and how they darted to one end to the other, surveying every little movement her prey made sent chills down his

Thick black smoke rose into the early-morning cloudy sky. A child shudders underneath a cold hand, missing several fingers, stinking of burnt flesh. In a distance he spots what looked like a teenager, but he thought he still dreamt. Yet that did not matter at that moment. Nothing mattered. The destruction of the city, the overturned cars, the bodies that littered the various large cold slabs of concrete that held some by jutting steel pipes. A semi-thick fog plagued the streets in every direction. An eerie silence gave way to his own deep breathing. A sharp pain followed by an itchy feeling captivated the child. He tried to move his left hand

Floating gently down A wind's whisper, barely a sound Ash as complex as snow A genocide, a world's lost foe Memories disperse A child exiled is no worse Without a sound he escapes His dying whisper atop the pyre This noose, this smoke, a mage...he whispers, "Liars."