Lighthouse In The Storm

Caught in the afterglow of your mercy
I listen to violent chirps of morning
Akin to rain which echoes your coming
I will not rush or vanish in hurry

Cut out my throat, I still flirt with madness
I accent the whispers beneath your floor
Fresh out of bullets, amidst tides of war
My resolve is sharpened by the blackness

Cold blossoms blue in footsteps, your staircase
I covet rays, red voices demanding
Coalesced colour, remnants commanding
Purple essence I struggle to replace

For I am ruin among your virtues
Soul shackled deep in rattled servitude.