Though I can't promise that the water will always be fine In this tumultuous sea, I will be your net, Your safety boat, Your clamouring hand That reaches the shore, That life-guard's vest With a red whistle to blow A calm embrace, A caress to the face, But while this siren says... Your drowning I cannot replace.
The moon calls the pristine sea-water, Which in turn, reaches to the sky to answer. The wind sings of this sultry exchange, While the poor rocks, Constantly thrashed by the falling tides, Can only silently sigh.
Will you come back soon? I've been waiting, And I know that we agreed before. But I've been so lonely, Just waiting for your spectre, To come back and haunt me... Please come back to haunt me.
Fret not, little child, The monsters under your bed are long gone, The next monsters you must fear Lurk within the minds of men.
It enslaves their heart, And lives off their soul, Construing their figures beyond recognition. Turning them into a shell of their former person.
Fret not, little child, Such monsters are a part of life, They live within us all and live all too well, For why else would poets of old admire your innocence, Your childlike wonder, lost to the seas of time?
If ghosts are real, Then they haunt me. Ghosts from times I wasn't And ghosts from times I could have been. And saddest of all, Ghosts who would never be. They haunt me through good times and bad And yet, Through all the highs and lows, They are mine.
Luminousis 