I’ve dug my own grave

And there’s no one to save

Me from this suffocating soil

Unloosed upon myself, by my own toil

My fear sears like a flame

At the sight of this stone with my name

Over the elated whispers of demons, I hear

Prayers murmured for me by all those I hold dear

Inky epiphanies etched upon a

Silver and sable-stained sky

As I’m thrown from on high

To crash down and die

In a diligently dug ditch of my own devising

The shadows seemed to smile when

I picked up my twisted pen

And sat down at a desk to spin

A web of horror, fragile and thin

But now those same shadows

They want me to die

To be forever enshrined

Upon a sable-stained sky

As the one man

Who used well their gift

But, though he did all one can

He was consumed by the rift

He created for himself

And he dug his own grave

And to his own mind, he played slave

Whilst there was no one to save

Him from the awaiting hells that began to boil

Nor from that saintly, suffocating soil

That he brought upon himself, with his own toil

And as suffocation pulled him away from survival

The shadows ensure that he’s burdened beyond revival

And the demons below elatedly, anxiously, await his arrival

For the shadows he once held

Believe that he had failed

And he was condemned by those who once showed him love

Thus he appealed his case to the ones up above

Who damned him, likewise, to the hells below

Gave him to the sable-stained shadow

Whom now made his darkest foe

And only now does he know

That

Fearing the dark, is like fearing death

As sure as the sun’s fall, you’ll have your last breath

But using the darkness, is like embracing death

Quite soon the sun will rise

And you’ll cause your last breath.