House of Saints

Walk with me for awhile,
Think not what lies behind or ahead.
Fake sadness into a smile,
And lose the meaning of what is said.
Weak minds will collapse,
A manipulation of the truth.
Trembling hands refrain to react,
As poisonous fangs strike true.
A birds’ eye view steals my breath,
An unworthy man in a House of Saints.
To taste life would mean to sample death,
And then grimace at the way it tastes.
Darkened clouds churn, the heavens clearly uneased,
Dying eyes straining,to witness the unholy scene.
Hot laughter escapes from a falling star.
Once magnificent feathered wings,
Now torn, withered, cracked, and dried.