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The symphony of darkness consumes us into the deep, dark dream,
that shadows our motions in the night,
That who is followed cannot escape the consuming fire
of that that is presumed honest, and gold, and pure,
The sacrifice of the fallen archangel screams,
Ringing through the reverberation in the minds of whomever dared to peek
At the rotting flesh upon his corpse....
In the depths beneath my feet, I cannot escape the silent grasp
of that only I believe in
Feasting off the fear
Sleeping under my skin,
I feel the wound deepening
and the Pitch black and Crimson comforts me,
Even when I know it shouldn't.
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