Though it was difficult, I managed to escape the prision in which I call the witch's tower, and ride home on my galliant steed into the sunset of freedom to thy's praise in the land I call home, the only land that I feeleth security and thy's protection of thy's sword. Once arriving at my home land I greeted my father in hopes that he would still recognise me, since I was gone such a long time, and thank the good lord, he did. After he basted me in his love and splendor...we endulged into a conversation, short, but still one at that. How good it feels to be embraced by a loved one... instead of the cruel, cold hand of the demon leading me into misery, how good it feels to sleep on the bed of my past life, so soft and warm opposed to the cement bed that I had to claim as my own at the witch's tower. What drove me to go, was the guilt that thy mother be layeth upon me, the shame that forced my soul to yern for thy touch and thy love, and most importantly which should be held above all in the universe, the strength of thy's God, my god. Foreth be the memories of my own life that brought my sould to yern. If I haveth not yet experienced my life, the witch would have her way, her cruel way that brings me spiraling down into a pit of dispare, a pit of death and torture. From thy torchure I have stretched to my limits, from thy's torture I have bled all I can, from thy's torture I look for my strength in the only place I can, God's. Foreth be the blood red sun over the dry barren land of the witch's tower... infested with bramble and thorns...that brought my eyes to the heavens and rose my voice to spredeth thy will. I must comfort the witch...for it is his will. I will continue thy's chosen way to satisfy thy's wishes, and to stregthen my self for the holiness of your name.
insomniac_attack · Wed Mar 30, 2005 @ 02:47am · 0 Comments |