The Eagle Knows Better Poem by Ace Of Black Hearts

The sounds misery.
Can you hear them.
The undying screaming in agony for single ounce of mercy.
Just one chance, just one more dance with the red queen.
The attraction undeniable, the satisfaction unseen.
Always left wanting more.
Fickle is this flowering bloom.
Through it veins spells nothing but death and destruction.
Yet its beauty is so hypnotizing.
You can't move as it sucks all the energy the right from you.
Your self importance become minuscule in the large scheme of things.
The mark of the beast.
Tattooed with number 14.
Oh what does this mean?
Is it a clock ticking in some fantastic dream.
Were always counting, days, months, minute, years.
It's as if in the absence time we would all disappear.
But among the abandon exterior motives.
Some not as clean.
Demons hands reaching, free me and I'll make this all yours.
Captured by his breath of ice cold flames.
The burning sensation just beneath the skin.
You can feel him within.
And suddenly you know torture endured.
The images wrapped in a box with pretty pink bow.
Tell me does this make it more pleasant.
Eating some slimy spinach, and calling it purple cabbage.
When human heart bleeds, what is it we see?
Is it destiny, or is there a voice inside your head screaming save me.
Self awareness of best kind.
Sacrifice yet undefined.
What can you truly give when you are already among the blind.
A peasant farming the till of greater minds.
Trying to understand just a single blade of grass.
In a field of millions.
Both exhilarating and overwhelming.
Wearing a straw hat and some shades.
Trying to fit the part to the best of your abilities.
Knowing it will not change a thing.
You will still be just as lost.
Because this isn't where you belong.
Temporary at best, for a time the eagle does sit to take a rest.
But when time comes he will fly off.