November 30, 2006

Character Dance

Crawling up the thorny walk,

the visitors arrive in stride

to play the game they plan to host,

forbidden to the living sort

(Though you secure you're in control,

you don't posses a chance in truth)

The visitors have rules beyond

a signature, an oath, a palm

It's not a mortal type of game

It's more a permanent charade

where visitors insist to stay

(For in your flesh they hide away)

You're dormant far beyond control

and simply clothes to fit the soul

these visitors, they hear your call

In candlelight: the seance ball

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