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Rosethorn sat up in bed sleepily, hands grasping for the pad and paper she kept on her bedside table. Flicking the bedside light on, she started scratching out words without even thinking, letting the muse that had woken her have it's way.
The dreams of our fathers fathers
that once lit our weary way
are coming apart at the stitching
and we don't know what to say.
The testaments and promises
we swore once to uphold
are falling to the wayside
now the days are growing cold.
Our passions ride us daily
where reason ruled instead,
and we fall victim to the madness
that howls inside our head.
The arms that once were shelter
are now riddled with despair,
And all the thread and needles
can do nothing to repair.
The imps of loss and misery
all whisper in our ears,
as they promise bleak tomorrows
and the truth of all our fears.
The fruit of life is bitter,
The path leads us astray,
The dreams have lost their lustre,
And we're dying day by day.
Our safeties are forgotten
and our bonds are broke in two.
We've coming apart at the stitching
and we don't know what to do.
She furrowed her brow as the urge to write left her and she read the gift the muses had given her. Some of the words and sentiments made sense, but other currents left her baffled.
"Hmm. How emo. I wonder where that came from?" She yawned to herself as she rolled over and turned off the light, her task complete.
OOC Inspired by this and this.
The dreams of our fathers fathers
that once lit our weary way
are coming apart at the stitching
and we don't know what to say.
The testaments and promises
we swore once to uphold
are falling to the wayside
now the days are growing cold.
Our passions ride us daily
where reason ruled instead,
and we fall victim to the madness
that howls inside our head.
The arms that once were shelter
are now riddled with despair,
And all the thread and needles
can do nothing to repair.
The imps of loss and misery
all whisper in our ears,
as they promise bleak tomorrows
and the truth of all our fears.
The fruit of life is bitter,
The path leads us astray,
The dreams have lost their lustre,
And we're dying day by day.
Our safeties are forgotten
and our bonds are broke in two.
We've coming apart at the stitching
and we don't know what to do.
She furrowed her brow as the urge to write left her and she read the gift the muses had given her. Some of the words and sentiments made sense, but other currents left her baffled.
"Hmm. How emo. I wonder where that came from?" She yawned to herself as she rolled over and turned off the light, her task complete.
OOC Inspired by this and this.
