Give me peace.

Scorched by thy love a flame to intense to hold I sooth my singed wings within the  cold well of despair, veiling my sorrow behind the empty glass, and tried smile  please, please  search for me again among the twisted remnants that I now am.

Doth though now adore this broken form, this desecration thy hate has spawned or do you love your bloodied thorn plunged deep into this wretched soul.

Hail thee Mary for I am full of thy grace hallowed be thy name, no quarter  even  given in this place of prayer, I kneel alone with the incense burn. Stigmata, self inflicted it takes away no hurt as recollections still phantom about my mind no crypt of peace can I find no solace no alter to cower behind.

Doth though now adore this broken form, this desecration thy hate has spawned or do you love your bloodied thorn plunged hard into this wretched soul.

 The banshee screams and harlots ease have changed thy softness to granite for handed silver coin, no sense has thy mind has you crave the greener grass and the alleys of old London town, cold cobbled and silver lined

 Doth though now adore this broken form, this desecration thy hate has spawned or do you love your bloodied thorn plunged hard into this wretched soul.

Search for some sanity now I must, among the tombs and crypts of the mind long lost, beneath the rotten earth I lie within, close my sickened eyes and at last, you are gone.