Vanashe DJ's blog: "Music & Poetry"

Man is born, heartless by nature, a pitiful creature, save for one feature: he cannot be hurt. His heart is empty, a hollow thing we all would envy if only we knew what lay beyond the bloody dawn. It is only when he is given love that his heart is filled, that velvet glove which holds him up into the light, to carry him safely through the night. See him now, surrounded by family, and see his tender heart laid bare, but sever a man from his family, that which grounds him, that which loves him, that which holds him, that which gives him reason to live, and you remove his tender heart once more. But what you’ll find in its place is that which none would dare to face.

So feel my sorrow, feel my pain, Feel my blood like a crimson rain come to cleanse them of their sins. With nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, and no place safe from my sight, like rats they scurry before the butcher’s knife. They’ll remember the man who begged them please, they’ll remember the man who, on his knees, begged them not to take his heart away. They severed the man, so I’ll sever them all, I’ll cut them down and watch them fall, make them pay for what they took with blunted blade and rusty hook, echoes of a broken life. Sever the man, sever his soul, sever all which made him whole, and even death will tremble in his wake.