Walking

Through a forest so deep

Weakened path not fair nor fair,

My steps are set by those corrupted,

All of which hath traveled there.

The

Blue-black shadows mimic

Mind of mine and soul--they're one.

They have no consent--and they need none--

This land's mine much as anyone's.

Will

This scene last forever?

Shadows wrought obsidian leaves

Wanting good words for a bad feeling.

Some sort of content takes me.

Of

Those sentient minds, only

The young, the intuitive, the astral, blue

Can feel it. And they enjoy the twisted

Elation unknown to mortals true.

The

Mist, wet and cold, is warm around me.

I'm safe. Here, with Sheogorath, all is well.

I could indulge wihout partaking (if I'd so chosen)

Today must be a lukewarm day in Hell.

Cruel

Are all those memorable.

For, nothing else could they have been.

But, cruel, in life, is everything

If that truth you wish to see.

Is

This real because everyone says?

Or, are there more against than some?

You're just a brain in a dark, lonely body,

Fathoming a world in which you aren't alone.

"Beautiful,"

I can't help but exhale.

Tortured beauty is the only true form

In any way. But, it's easier to

Ignore the cruel with blindness and scorn.

But,

This is not the way

Of the astral youth, rising to

Despotism in their own right.

They conquer and think, above all, construe.

Damaging

And tragic are these notions.

For, though they're given, never do they release.

All walk the forest path, they must.

But, only few will know the jade trees.