Denied

No place now holds a lure
No draw - either profane or pure
Nothing calls nor calms my mind
Severed all that once did bind
Despair returns to stake it's claim
From spirit once it was denied
Now it has no need to tame
Spirit long since torn and tried

Faking my way through day and night
Living a lie for others' eyes
Pretending to that which I've no right
This pitiful life that I despise

Beyond the reach, within the dark
Past all that which others touch
Lies a blossom - of ebon stark
That few would recognize as such

Dark and brittle, bare of stem
Twining leaves and tendrils grasping
Stone of crimson, dark within
Facets sharp and edges rasping

'Gainst said ebon leaves of stone
T'would gleam if else there were but darkness-
But not a glimmer, gleam, or spark
Within this void of barren starkness

Ringing, calling through the dark
The song of crimson stone
Song of despair devoid of mark
That yet scars to the bone.

-It keens and cries alone.