It's Treason, to Love With a Passion

The forlorn shadow
Amidst a field of sorrow
Green grass wither
In the chill breeze of winter

The ghost closes its eyes
Remembers all the goodbyes
Leaves drift like dust
The winds howl at dusk

He was more than a phantom
Far from being lonesome
Life was limitless
Uninfected of virus

But he made the decision
To leave and abandon reason
He never knew it was treason
To love with a passion

To define his prolongation
He found a new foundation
From buzzing pandemonium
He resonated pristine rhythm

A tune of beauty
Unparalleled by any
A butterfly on a summer day
Striving to reveal the way

First time he was pardoned
Unpunished by the burden
He persisted in continuation
And so came penalization

Now he is but a criminal
Hunted by agony and trouble
Frightened of his own creation
He no longer seeks the sensation

Defeated with a broken heart
His soul is being torn apart
Existing in his memories
Trying to escape present realities

His song endeavours with nothing but a glimmer
Miles of difference from it original splendour
No one remembers
No one hears

He serves out his sentence
Haunted by the heart wrenching barrenness
For he never knew it was a crime a treason
To love with a passion