Those with the brightest light Cast the darkest shadow What is left in the wake of shadow's egress Of a lifetime of chaos after ravaging a world of flesh? Complacent; permanent disharmony Left to their own devices Withering, aging - An eroded skeleton No passage out, no bridges in Decrepit remnants Those brought to this place Would look at this nebulous encasement of prismatic memories That through a fogged prism, faintly Are flickering impressions of a spectrum shone Behold this desolate, decomposing place, Devoured by monuments to shadow in throes Scavenged, as carrion picked apart by vultures, A wasteland of remains; haunted, morose Whence flowed vitality, before two eyes closed And before, emerged, O, the accursed third Now lie only decrepit remnants The ghost of an entire world What is left in the wake of this prism's decay When all its facets have become worn and crumbled Leaving almost no trace? But damaged memories waver uncertainly As the oculus dissipates into nothing I curse this existence! Screaming with madness, I have become as the chasm I am perpetual darkness Forever imprisoned amidst voices that echo in stone I am one amongst the shadows