The Citadel of Poetry

Desolation

There is a stygian castle of ruins
That has walls of freezing shards
Not even a flame can melt the foggy castle of ice
It is so cold that even a lava turns to stone
Even the light cannot pass on its own
Splinter of every searing tear that covers the wall
Not even a scream can get out with its waves that maim
For a reaper who handles that create his own pebbles
A wall to build for every passer to concede
This castle that cannot cry but it does
The reaper who is overjoyed with sorrow
Never did once try a recent creation to flow
For it remained untouched like it has the sharpest scythe
And characterized with words that are razor-edged
With an eyes that cause you to kneel
And a heart that is frigid long time stayed unheal
Corrupted mind that chaos can penetrate
Mumble the reaper who reigns the dark pit
And stars that turned into a dim frost kit
Been used too long that dry and detonate the unkind
Who wish to raise a gaze and spit the swords of word for every mankind
Who own a sight that sees what blind cannot see
And roots of perception tangled to its ghostly tree
Long time trapped in a castle of its own
Let the path to the castle make visibility
To furnish the bloody stairs by a mystery with desperate capability
If there the reaper who shadows himself cowardly
Looks at its unearthly eyes and be lost on his maze of otherworldy
Foot of his shackled on his own that slams
Claws that are fierce that could pierce the rams
For beforehand it is hanged in front of the glacial turntiles
Written not by chance of aggressiveness you could pass
Step one foot for once and take what is ahead of this supernatural mass
For if a step has happened that blare the enormous roar
And a bell will be heard that causes you to abhor
For this reaper is not only a reaper
This that gives lights sometimes but darkness mostly
That shelters himself and wrapped by shards that are unholy
For change that cannot be changed but it keeps on changing
Look at the sky and see the flares
Not just by one that provided by the beast to ease the weather
If a frosty castle of ruins that screamed
Sometimes its not what it is that remains unstreamed
But this that fabricates every dark creativity that is unseen
And there the hell of fire is now in the moment
Burning eyes that spark the gloomy castle
Like sometimes it is cold but it could be warm
That shows itself that is outrageous that loves to harm
Arise the servant of the reaper who is deadly
Where a passer could witness that stops his plans of medley
Inch by inch this castle is sewn by the reaper
With glamour eyes and bravest fist
The allure of the reaper that makes his castle charming
But be not the blind that heats the blindess
For what is behind the mystery that is covered with calmness
For this reaper is untouchable who burns and has thorns
Not a single touch could appeal him to one that is unknown
Never to give a map of dangerous mischief
For it does not generate kindness but only selfishness
Analogous demons of his that fight for him and earn selfishness
Behind this reaper is a reaper who is fierce
Like his dreams broken and shattered not by whoever can fix
That make him a shadow himself behind a shadow
With a castle in front of him but he sleeps in the flaming burrow
A mind of his that captivates the fiend
Of then the land where he stood occupied by bloody swines
Like a mummy wrapped himself with lightning that restrains
There be him in-depth with his merciless conscience
Him that is covered of blazing mud that shows inivisiblity
And rest himself in a grave of forlorn nobility
That alleviates the jumping mind of restless woe
Fatal strike of desperation to kill a doe
That replenishes him by the blood of the killed raw
Layer of shade makes him skilled to defeat
Everyday it sums up to own a great coat of disguise
So then the reaper can wander with shadow that secretly petrifies