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.