When air blows out the candles with a simple touch.
You encounter yourself.
Realising how lonely you are, benighted.
It does make you repent for a saviour from this darkness.
But you end up sobbing in the corner of your own pale, grey walls of silence.
A solitude that no one told you to be aware of.
What do you do?
How do you feel, being alone at the end of the day?
Do you leave scars on the wall?
Or the knife on the floor?
A rotten soul surrounded by fear, begotten failure, carnation of diseases.
How do you repent to your saviour?
How do you ask mercy from this severed supremacy format of Despair?
I am surrounded by death and pursuing this paradox in thy light.
Isolated, Rotten, Wounded, Weakened how can a body with only bones take part in the manifestation of Thy Light?
A Grave With No Flowers.
A Graveyard so dry that has only stones.
Humanity flooded by the Monsoon of Despair, a millennium has passed.
Death, Grant Me as Your Wings Accept me to sleep eternally.
