Frozen thought ripped out of an icy cold heart,

Break through the darkness before the shadows,

Retreat to their hiding place in there twilight hiding place.

My mind is hollow there is no light left,

Within what use to be me no longer lives.

They demons evoke me, and carve there,

Mark upon me from within my trapped,

Over taken charred renewed soul.

What use to be me has taken a final curtain?

The web of what was, and what is to be is,

Shattered like a broken window there is only,

Evil left inside of my tortured being all the,

Butterflies are burnt in there cocoons before,

They get the chance dry in the light and fly.

The darkness knows I am home, I feel the ones among,

Me as they whisper me into their demeanor of sin.

So I slither along waiting for the fires to take hold,

And burn what is left of my tainted existence of being.

I know longer care if my wings are made of feather,

Somehow I know deep within they will fly higher made of leather.

The simple pleasures of the dark illuminate me,

Like that of a jackal before he tears out the jugular,

Of his prey to make them into a part of his forsaken clan,

I welcome this and cradle it to my new found me!

The moon she knows my name and grabs the chants I,

Roast on the fires of my alter to grant me what I need,

Never looking back I feel the days dwindle into night,

As the light becomes dark in my new unearthly fight!

Inkmaster