Falling from the grim jet dome
The tears of a mourning God
Upset from the failure
He once had called home
The drops rapped at the window
Slipped and fell off the sill
And were left to be eaten by mud
The sky sweats grief below
A greedy crimson rose feasted on the Fallen
But bit more than it could chew
The luckiest were the unlucky
Its thoughts drowning in what it drew
The slaves broke free of the wind
Fought back hard and strong
But in the end shot down
Then more went dying along
Deep inside the rose felt
Through its prickly thorn belt
Sorrow for what had been done
And withered on its awaiting grave
The midnight hour spun