Burning With Regret

So, it has come to this.

All but solitude in

Explicit detail

Have folded and left me.

Hopelessness grins and feeds with mirth

My philosophies of death:

The nihilistic seal in which I once sought reason,

And spites with black, sarcastic tortures.

So alas the sleeper dies,

In all devouring darkness consumed

Where tears are blood from the soul.

Facing mortality

With trembling fingers

As ever failing swords.

In truth and essence

Old beliefs are like a splintered shield

Dying twixt the mills of God,

Grinding bones to flower.

The song makes bitter dances

When crushed beneath that tower.

Be still my bleeding heart...

Alas all love is dead.

Monumental in its overwhelming silence.

Flooding with hurt,

Burning with regret