advidauthor

Sinfully sweet symphonies cloak me in light Angelic whispers of majesty fill me with delight Decadent castles of fantasy encircle my mind Elegant fields of mercy treat me far too kind Violins play me a song too beautiful to hear Quiet harps of reflection show me that love is near Violence has gone, fleeing from good's embrace Peace has come, welcoming all who are in need.

It was the late afternoon on a bright summer's day.  There was chaos in the streets and laughter in the air.  Children danced and sang, people rejoicing and shouting with joy.  I had caused it.  I had caused the violent demise of the cruel tyrant. I dropped my weapon, hands trembling in terror.  What was wrong with this picture?  Countless times before now, I would take a life without a second thought, without any guilt or conviction. I was hated for it.  Now, they hired me to take out the trash and I was revered.  I hated myself.  What had changed?

 Fire danced across the sky as the late forest passed on into the flames.  The creatures of nature were swept away in the wake of destruction.  The toxic wasteland was the perfect place to further the mal intent of man. And I had helped to create it all. Indirectly, of course.  I never would have dreamed of causing so much suffering.  Never in a thousand years would I have predicted such a drastic turn of events. The path that brought us to where we are today was originally a simple one.  It was a concept intended to heal the sick, to smooth the blemishes that Creation had forgotten to heal. Most prominently, however, I wanted to prolong

There's another world beyond these fingertips A reflection of our own Their ways are unlike ours In this twisted fairytale, Wayward perversion becomes naivety and innocence And our hateful ways are full of love A happily ignorant child Is cynical and bitter The aged and elderly Is oblivious of wisdom Is change truly for the better? Satisfaction within our reach, Would it truly quench desire? Or would we yet again be left empty Soulless beings devoid of sentience Truth be told, There will always be a place That can never be reached... There is a world beyond these fingertips A reflection of our own.

A sudden surge of inspiration A sudden work of perspiration Finally, I yield the fruits of my labor Tasting the freedom that is now in my grasp Like a breath of air to asphyxiated lungs, Life has returned to my mind. Light has illuminated my blatant flaws. Hope is a glimmer on the horizon.

Fire dancing on sky One, two, three shots were fired Protest met its end

These hands destroy what they create.