Lore of the Lost

from by Becoming Myth

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To pick the lock your heart must fully stop. Her echoing words; a fiendish plague. Horrendously insinuating rhythmically. How could I forget when your roots lie deep in my head? Alas, I mumble with animosity. That premeditated line of which my life's defined.

A cold sweat breaks from my brow. Letting the streets take everything away from me. Will he appear? A sight of clouded fear. A subtle welcoming cough, this is where I belong.

Desperate to save this hope, to surely end this hoax. A book be bound by love and secrecy that I have sewn. Into my flesh engrained, I'll flip through every page. No doubt be cast down from this stage.

"This is a damn joke, it's fucking got to be! I'm tired and I'm wading through a sea of deadly men who wish to end me and steal my beloveds ancestry." The air seemed cold and honest for it's reply was the wind whipping through the trees. Still subtlely grazing my flesh, I can't help but sob.

In these few brief moments the sounds of death and the stench of life call out to me. A face so familiar, a chase so predictable. A body so much like bones that can no longer hold up this host. A street that lies forgotten and as dead as my lovely widow. A street that lies forgotten and as dead as my lovely, yet rotting widow.

"Oh I just love how you run! It makes my job all the more fun watching you try to hide!" Yes, I ran, book in thine hand. If he were to gaze at the relic, what would he find? Is it not for the truest of eyes?

I cut through the alleyways so beautifully and perfect just as I had before. A disgusting attempt, I grunt. "That lowlife, tonight's no different than the last!" A blade's course guided through the stillborn night. No to take out my sight but to alleviate his blight. A cut of the ear, a scream that I could hardly hear. To fall to my knees, how could there be dignity left? Like blood, could it be dripping into the puddles of my undying love or fueling murderous lust? In my dismay, the book had fallen far from the palm of my hand.

Smiling still, the assailant grabs the lore of the lost assuming his dream's fulfilled. It's very essence secretes euphoria out of him. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" His maddened prize is my calling to survive. I mustn't tarnish a legacy.

I struggled just to stand. Blood flowing from my head. Dulling my senses. A numbed ecstasy swallows me whole. Blood; such a monotonous thought. A beginning and an end.

I lick my crimson hand just to spit it into his eyes, for his demise I took my dagger and shoved it inside him. "Oh Grubbs I just love how you die." A twist of the blade... to the depths he'll descend.

Blood; the key all along. No longer must I wait for this. to my home, alone. I'll open it there at last. My love, I feel so ashamed. For this is what keeps me sane. A betrayal of all you and your family has died for. Although I broke my word I feel an inner warmth. I turn the cover for the first and last time. As I ponder at the first torn page her face stared blank. Life faded away... you were always mine.


from Mneumonik E​.​P., released March 22, 2016



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Becoming Myth Modesto, California

We are a progressive death metal band. Our music is crafted by combining the varied influences of each member and making something original.

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