A Child of Scheol

Was born here-- raped, thin, pale carbon-kissed bones, under the inglorious sun of ira-- savage spiritus exiled, bleeding in the river ire, to expire as sand over stones. Despair confessed to pathos, quickening the twilit dream-- silence rips open his dried flesh, spilling the ashes in the waters of chaos. Tears be the gift of fools. Recycled & absolved, what dust still remains flows unto Edens' scarred horizon, gripped by the cold ruins left from mans' luxuria; ebony moon replays the death of eternity upon canescent fields-- the orchards' shattered silhouette flickers: dancing over the stillborn corpse, last son of Elysium.