Ill sorrow, taken to its extreme,

Harvested for its wicked effect,

Exacerbated to drain your life.

Satan’s evilest deception, Death,

Toiled and obsessed over, sans end;

Made into an idol all its own.

The rot of existence, given breath;

Its foul form turned into a sweet treat;

Toxic, yet appearing beautiful.

The lines of order washed from your mind:

Eve made into Adam; Adam, Eve;

Lead to Feather; Darkness into Light.

The whole, atomized, made singular;

Man, twisted into a lone island;

Words without worth, nothing more than sound.

Hedonism, forced into Virtue;

Flesh made a temple of desire;

Man's hunger and fears, the only aim.

Wisdom weaved into vulgarity;

The Beauty of the Mind, burnt away;

The Genius of Man put in a cage.

The World formalized for the dull fool;

All things simplified for the simple;

Polemics of Sentiment lauded.

Time at its end is magnificent to the vile,

Profitable to those who know that it goes on,

While everyone who grasps the Truth is called insane.

The setting sun calls to the Horror of the Night

To unshackle her beasts to dole out Man’s desserts.

Then, when darkness begins its diminuendo,

Light comes to the surface once more and Truth’s reborn.