H.I.V.E (Hatred Is Ventilating Everywhere)

The gate to gold falls to ocean depths,

rust to ruins, to the void of death.

So each bone numbs as the last one dies,

snared in fear we face the Hive.

But may death be free to take my life,

when my fire bows before my strife.

This cancer an architect, within the walls you find,

the choice to paint the devil, or be the devil blind.

In the wake of the storm, let the iris set you free,

Until the end, and all fates to be.

For when blood runs cold, and blood runs vain,

The wolf dies no martyr, the howl dies the same.

 A dagger for the jaded, too weak to fight,

That dagger is love, risen upon the light.