Analysis of Dreadful Arms

In the night of the bitten soft moon,
Of summer's sweet warmth and spring's early bloom,
Awake under the moonlight
Told a base tuned tale,
Entwined on the river side,
A face rotting pale.

'Tis not merciful to bear the earrings of sorrow,
No'r the pleasing view, of the moon dyed yellow,
I sat under the trees
While the wind caressed my skin,
Drinking from my salty tears,
Stalked by the midnight grin.

And there she stood, the emerald maiden,
Of a lure she trapped on a steel forged heaven,
And I followed her, with no lust intended,
But of memories yearned, and rings rejected.

Hence her gown of kindness lured me in her arms,
Her heart of eve's tongue laid down her bars,
Biting my soul, with her teeth of harmony,
Dazing me forever in her passionate serenity.

For then came her Adam in Silver armor,
On his full white steed, snaring desire,
Away he swept her
From my oil hands,
Sparking her skin,
Igniting my flesh.

I was burnt from her distant body,
The funeral of my love buried with agony,
My eyes scorched from her naked face,
My tears loathed from her rapturous grace.

He sat by her side, as I watched from the abyss,
He held her arms, and hummed his tone on her lips,
How I wished I was her flower,
So she may hold me close,
How I ache to watch her with another,
And feel no remorse.

I weep that her heart does not belong to me,
And I swim forever in her uncharted sea,
Then I drown from silence
And cry from her songs,
Off I break by my patience,
And into her arms, I am lost.

I am plagued from my wishes to hold her hands,
They shall never come true; those dire plans,
I will always be fallen
For her vile charms,
And forever be welcomed
In her dreadful arms.