Scattered mind of a dying soul
Fading away upon a golden scroll
relief embraces him upon her stare
beauty he knows well to beware
Traps of old spun on his path
complex games or meant to be had?
Chaos familiar reflected in confusion
But who am I but a slave to disillusion?
Crumbling path where angels fear to thread
Those breathing stardust are the ones misled
Soaring across lava soaked sands of time
Shushed by the sweet melody of a nursery rhyme
Alucard, man, 122 jaar
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