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In the void where flesh becomes the altar,

A banquet of silence, separated by the veil of despair,

Decomposing dreams linger, like whispers of a lost generation.

A noose of memories, snapping bones of the sunlit past,

Beneath the weight of the endless night, echoes of anguish meld with ash,

As the air thickens with the scent of dread, the horizon smears with decay.

Veins of the earth pulsing with sorrow, wails of the forsaken rise,

Specters dance upon the graves, each heartbeat stretches into eternity,

An agonizing rhythm, a symphony of the damned.

What remains but the weight of ashes?

A thrumming pulse of regret

In the heart of desolation.