Black is the tower from which we rebel. The sudden elevation in ambition comes to an astonishing fruition and propels the revelation to create the endless pull of devastation.
Black is the tower where the gravitational pull sets to refuel and exclude all those with the aims to delude. Is this the end to which we conclude – the nobile majesty of highest society abandoned in sobriety.
Black is the tower from which the unexpected looms as the podium is raised with the banners setting the stage, for this is the golden age.
Black is the tower to fall from and decent to the Crimson abyss with no airs or cares to dismiss -such fatalities are pure in their theater of mystery. Are we still unable to see when there’s no notification to set us free – time is ours to deceive and create whatever maybe perceived.
Black is the tower ascending high above the clouds, decorated eternal and proud, with the achievements unlocked and all thoughts in exile – why risk it all when it is better to live in denial.
Black is the tower from which all we know has originated from to become the highest in our philosophy.
Hysteria Lullaby: Poetry 