Inside the Outside

I'm standing on the inside of the outside of my dreams
It's misty grey, I'm so alone and down my cheeks tears stream

This is the place I have frequented from the age of five
And every time the mist lures me here, I wonder why I'm alive

It whispers to me and tells me why no one seems to care
Sitting alone and seldom talking whilst into space I stare

   So young and safe you should have been like many girls and boys
   Your innocence, your purity taken, becoming one of his toys

   I lure you here to comfort you, a soul so now alone
   My soothing mists surrounding you in dreamed safety roam

   No one will ever harm you when you enter into my world
   Solitary you are presently, but one day you'll be that girl

The morning sunshine awakens me, her rays shining on my face
As I slowly drift from the soothing mists that nightly save my grace

I head off into my day as I have done for the past fourteen years
Knowing when night time comes, the dreamed mists allay my fears

For how long I will feel alone, my thoughts honestly cannot say
From five years old to nineteen as I am, I know I'll speak one day  

In Fields of Past Attrocities

In a place called Wester Ross
An area in the Highland Glens
Lie fields of atrocities past
That deter the bravest of men

It all happened so long ago
On a bleak dreach winters night
A few farmers were staggering home
Until they stepped in, out of the light

For on this night in December
The darkness take to the skies
They fly in circles of seek
Plundering the livings eyes

What sets them off on this carnage
By the greying beams of the moon
Is a coven of darkening beauties
In death they pick their groom

Tied like decrepit scarecrows
An invitation they now become
The circling hoards of black
In gliding dark he succumbs

The last visions their eyes do see
In the presence of darkened skies
The image within their bodies
Skeletal in their die

Their ceremony absorbs what little
Light that escapes their dark
Lie fallow fields in the morning
Another community left in stark

She now stands in black attire
As if in mourning of her loss
This is they way the coven married
In a place called Wester Ross