Tomorrow will be Brighter (for Pomegranate)

She is standing on the brink. Afraid to jump in,
afraid to continue standing still. Life is passing her fast,
rushing past in blurry pink and crimson moments.
Letting go is harder than she thought,
confused a moment and desperate for a reason.

Maybe it would be easier to shut herself away,
hide from the world's crueler pastimes. Admit she died,
admit that the world crumbled around her. Admit wrong,
confess love, die peacefully, in harmony with the pain.
Maybe tomorrow will be brighter, prettier than this.

Dreaming of moments not tinged in ebony highlights,
she hopes and she prays. Is it possible to leave emptiness?
What's the point? Is there one? Or do we just exist?
Music will continue to play, lovers will continue to dance,
but where will they go when the moments are over?

Beauty sleeps on her satin bed, beside roses lie dead.
A tender kiss upon forgotten lips, she won't wake again.
Molten emotions singe the clock's unfeeling hands,
grasp the falling stars and ride them down to Hell's open gate.
Awake to the brighter tomorrow, stolen from Hate.