The gargoyle of Suffering, having gorged on my defeat, rages when I am found silenced. Feelings drowned, thoughts incomplete, intentions unknown, still intense, now what shall the gargoyle eat?
When the sun deprived the hours last, fistclaw fates had taken hold; hatredβs was the only shadow cast, growing tired of getting old.
Frozen, becalmed, dispassionate, emotions wilted at my feet; with grief lined passageways collapsing, where shall the monster eat?
An empty shell of reasoning borderline of being alive; teeth of night have picked me clean, how shall the fiend survive?
In a Father's peace, let time emboss the sage in me, confusion dissolved. Pale away this wires-crossed image of me around which such sorrow revolves.
Cast iron mind once time defined as intellectual; insight arriving too late; long suffering is over, it is not yours anymore; leave the monster to his fate.