How long you take to see my wounds,
Haven’t you heard the scream of deaths,
On your ways of mystical sickness.
I can’t be well to see the world I loved,
Will you still tell me what I’ve done?
Nothing resides beneath my soul,
Darkness you fear to leash upon the world,
Has taken my heart because I stole your thoughts.
I await your submission, Deathra,
These poems may cure your intimidation.
The well on the world’s end,
Speaks of survival of this doom.