---

My face pressed against the earth

I heard the chorus of the leaves. Within the whistling gale a hoarse mother's shriek took shape

And oh how he rejoiced behind that door overgrown. Bellowing in a sickly enfeebled tone

The ashen smoke fills my body as my screams reach no further than his doorstep

I waited and waited for the shackles to unbind

The winds begin to crack my skin

Still I lie in desolation

Speak of the weeping the wailing song of anguish ever present in the atmosphere

Acceptance heaves me through a whirlwind of tragic cinemas that repeat and extend

Death looms over every corner of this keep

Overseen by the weeping watcher

Still I lie in desolation

Speak of the weeping the wailing song of anguish ever present in the atmosphere

Forbid me not from discovery

For it is redemption that I seek

The horrors behind this door haunt me still.

There lies behind the bloodline hanged alive damned to suffocation

Damned to look on as the birds chew upon their frantic kin

Open the sky

If this is true, then I relinquish the blood and the salt

Come forth looming raven

Speak of the weeping the song of anguish

The winds begin to crack my skin carrying with them the ashes of the slain

Never does the sun set with their cries absent

Eating every soul that spills upon the black carpet that sits behind the crimson gate

Cold

Dead

Hands

Now

Fold