Works

And the Soul Begins to Waste

​Crimson eyes stare at me from above

Striking fear in my heart.

In the frabric of space,

Behind the grey veil,

Souls begin to clamour.

In the dark and in the winter

My vision staggers,

My skin constricts.

Oh, burning eyes

Grant me passage

Through the red,

From this existence.

To the nothing,

To the black.

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