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Time has thawed the frost

You always have succumbed

Whence snowbound hatred

Lays dormant and numb

Gasping for breath in the distance

Tied to an anchor of lies

That sinks to brink of perdition

Where nothing can hide

Smell the stigma fury

Like a cattle brand

Every skeleton in your closet

Mirrors your own off-hand

Pyres burnt to ashes

Will always leave a trace

Portrayed in dust

Lies the old familiar face

The gates of hell

Spurred by an inevitable fate

A chrysalis swell

Unfolding blossom in decay

I am the author who have birth to sin

And I have seen a world so pure of imperfection utterly

And so I lean a step towards the hell that I created for myself

Where will I go?

When guiding stars fetched thronged in a heaven that I don’t know

Why have you forsaken me?

Why is the effort in vain always the pain that pierces deepest?

Prevail not

Though I know it was the frailty of myself that created God

And so I leave

My mortal remains for my spirit lost to retrieve