As I walk towards the shrine of blood and gold,
Reeking of the fallen and of the old
Unbeknownst to what might lay beyond,
A ******* in what comes after, a ******* in what came before.
This sack of maimed flesh that you see
A conquered ***** of the soul
This skin worn by all but one
A temple broken down to the bone.
Where once was a mind delighted,
A crown of jewels, of dreams of flight and
Of merriment and of might
A child of the stars that I once was
Burnt embers of olden coal that I am now.
Hence here I lay, astray, with no greed
No rage, no radiance and no leads
A destitute of life, fed and dressed
A king of the barren, a pastor amongst the wicked and unblessed.
And as I stand now at the altar of the fallen ghouls,
From suitor to gatekeeper of my own poisoned muse
Guiding sheep to a slaughter frayed
A purgatorial monument, unraveled and unswayed.