Drawing Circles in Sand

Drawing circles in sand,
Just to see a face,
In the hellish prison,
This awkward place,

No trees for shade,
No roof for shelter,
The heat of this world,
Will surely melt her,

A mistress of winter,
She used to be,
But now cast aside,
It's hard to see,

Those shiny blue eyes,
Have turned to grey,
Her mind still glued,
To that yesterday,

Forget the old demon,
And that raven as well,
She once thought it heaven,
They now make her life hell,

The spectres appear,
Of her former love,
Proving yet again,
No god above,

The poetic words,
The songs of old,
Azul Autumn and killers,
The stories he told,

She holds her ears,
No longer wishing to hear,
Every sound and whisper,
Makes him seem so near,

Ahead of her,
The boy does stand,
With A sickly grin,
And an open hand,

She rises up,
To meet his embrace,
But not a hand on his heart,
But a knife in it's place,

He looks to her,
Then back to the wound,
He falls to his knees,
In the now bloody dunes,

He looks up at her,
and now dares ask "why?",
She just looks down and glares,
As there's tears in her eyes,

A door does now open,
As the dead boy collapses,
The events unfolding,
More than happenstances,

She steps on through,
Looking back only once,
Forgetting all the marks that he left,
All the bruises and cuts,

As one door closes,
Another one opens,
A new girl appears,
And her heart beats for his,

He lives now again,
His hearts been repaired,
Sorry he hurt her,
Never sorry he cared,

But a new life ahead,
For the feathery demon,
With this queen of shadow,
Here to make sure he's breathing,

It's over now,
Hate's come and gone,
Frustration vacated,
All that's left are the songs,

The mistress lives on,
And the demon as well,
He lives with his queen,
In their own little hell,

The story lives stronger,
In the hearts of this band,
Of times with cold demons,
And drawing circles in sand.