Rising Son

Rising son,
New light in thes world now born,
Young life brought up in the shadow of the Cross,
At an early age torn asunder by unexplained expectation,
Though, by existance, an aberration to the sire,
By birth, the key to the bearers games,

Loved and Unloved,
Wanting nothing more than youthful bliss,
But no longer ignorrant of years' since conflicts,
Unintentionally and purposefully pushed aside, rage begins to set in,
Darkness crawls into the pores, and deficates aggression,
Though, while wholeheartedly destrcuctive, it remains unseen,

Thruth was spoken,
Tales of lives lost and of lives spent,
Fleeing sire leaving fearful youth in bearers clutch,
And in solitude, freezing winter, and starving summer,
Begain the turning, the creation of arms for vengeance,
Many a lie hense was spun in that creekside hell,

Angels and Demons,
Creatures of old best left in the realms of Fae,
Brought into clear focus, breeding pestilence and hate,
Four moons hense spent grinding the blade, fining the tine,
The weapon burning with firey hate and destructive rage,
Such fire only possible through careful coaxing,

An Unholy challenge,
With no base for claim, only a platform of demonic lies,
A darkened son moves to eclipse the sire,
Throwing tainted words of God and dear Jezibelle,
Amid this tiny, ignorrant storm the sire is unmoved,
And with words of power breaks the demons hold,

Confusion,
The son lies broken, a useless weapon of vengeance,
The world is shattered beneath small, unknowing feet,
All he wants is to play soldier and knight,
But there will be no more time for play, for the poison remains,
And the inner-child is the first to die,

Whispers in the night,
An unheard voice in the back of the mind,
Somthing primitive, somthing faint and forgotten,
Through cracked, dead lips comes this voice,
Silently spoken, but filled with commanding power:
"Where is my mommy?"