It doesn't matter,
What the notes of black behold of me.
For I am an eagle; restrained from flight.
Waiting, Watching for my silver knight.
What a cliche, what a downtrodden spectrum,
A pretensious sword carving my words.

Hold me close, that's all I ask.
It's not like fear has throttled you.
Alone on my peak,
I regard my movements:
Slow, challenged by the winds of glory.
Secrets are words that knives have befriended.

Frivolous tension, A sparrow unmoving.
Plath is no longer a stranger.
Holding out light to wisdom and pleasure,
I fear my victim becomes me.
Pursed lips, a shallow pocket,
A want for a world far away.

I whisper,
Where is this road going to take me now?
What has life predestined?
A lound noise, bang.
A soft voice "wait"
A saviour is not far away.