• My mind can’t conceive what once I’d believed.
    The sorrow erupted from joys long deceased.
    What did you descry, ere fellowship died,
    an absence of my sanity?
    For if this is true then the fault lies with you.
    Oh master of all things twisted untrue.
    Disgrace upon hate your sanguineous fate,
    devouring all that was once pure in you.
    For then in the end when all else is rent,
    the only thing left to devour is you.