I am the end with no begining

The graceless beauty of
Insanity's petals wanting
A demon of invited inspiration


A black most beautiful weed
Silently cold grows inside me

The eyes of small pure angels
Black from the womb till they die


Beside her gallpos the crime, the plague and the hunger
Two little children used to walk behind them.
I built the symmetry of chaos on

Surrealism of classic truth
Withered jewels of new ideals that
Worship my apparent calm lunacy...


Two small dead angels cut away their eyes
It will always come toe to mow

the eyes of small pure angels.