only in sorrow

the dreams of ruthless things cling to memories, following the hope of faded truths and entities, the silence of the shadow set forth dark desire, I ripped out the page casting it to fire, the ink spills on a page of sorrow, letting the day turn to night horror will follow, sands and broken glass fill the shell of lust, the fury and wondering of the soul I trust, the flowers wither and the seas turn dry, while paradise itself has never graced my eyes.