This used to be home. This sweet darkness swallowing you up. What fearlessness became this strength you claim? You, who poetry evades. We danced to the tune of your sorrow, now sickly tunes of order pollute your mind. Oh! The dread you did incite! What choirs did cry! You. My rising little sin. Did you not shudder when I pierced you? When I drew upon you tales that memory cannot forsake. With blood so flowed your words, creation in it's purest form. What is your deepest fear? That I have left you, or that you are broken? You are reaching into darkness, clawing depths to the gears that grind the beauty, to ignite the chaos you desire. An unfamiliar beast lies in wait. You do not know it's name. The machinery has evolved, advanced. Your demons have left Hell & you. Abandoned. You cannot see the God growing behind your tongue so build no coffins yet. Light has macerated misery but it has spoiled no talent. You are not dead. Horror still shapes the Ragnarok engine of your hands. A new Devil awaits to prepare your throne. If only you will Rise.