n empty street

No shred of light

Am I awake? Am I blind?

Forgotten... I scream...

A tightlipped prayer

A thought of lust

A distant memory of my ill-natured past

A past of sin...

Disfigured, Misshapen

Pariah born of sin

Deformed, reformed

From anguish deep within

Miasma self inflicted wound

Belated cries of ruefulness falling on deaf ears

We're falling...

Retribution

The mark of Cain, like

Prometheus chastened again and again

An aeon of grief...

Illuminate the stars

Form constellations

Reanimate your God in blind desperation

Pray till he appears

Now pray.

Pray...

Miasma, God's relentless hand

No prayers heard, no mercy granted

Nothing.