I woke from a nightmare of torment serene.
Sweat from my terror rolled down.
With wide open eyes I searched for a light...
Nothing but darkness was found.
Frozen in horror,
I lay there as if in my grave.
The stench of decay overpowered my senses.
I rustled through mounds of the dead.
There in the black I could sense, I could feel.
The color of blood running red.
Fashioned in Hell was this womb whence I rose.
Glistening wounds all around.
Bodies, they jostled and they gurgled.
A necrotic hymn from the ground.
The stench of decay overpowered my senses.
I rustled through mounds of the dead.
There in the black I could sense, I could feel.
The color of blood running red.
With the gnashing of teeth and crunching of grit.
I made my way out of this pit.
And when I arose a new enemy.
Awaited for me to submit.
"Lo, comes the filth of our enemy's loins, may God be the judge for his crimes.
Seize now this demon and open his flesh, may his cries be unhinged".
Crosses of iron, swords brandished forth,
They waited for me to arise.
They knew I was there (desperate for air)
Waiting to be my demise.
The stench of decay overpowered my senses.
I rustled through mounds of the dead.
There in the black I could sense, I could feel.
The color of blood running red.