On days like this one, I often find myself in the forest dark,
I do not think, I do not speak, only feel the scars set deep in my bark.
Did I cut myself, or was it someone else, I cannot even tell,
I only know the grief inside me, it grows darker, deeper than a well.
Grieve for those who are lost, for the ones whose life was cut so short,
was it Human or was it God who, your story sought to thwart?
And now you're gone and it will all be soon forgotten,
no echo left in eternity, but a taste so sour, so rotten.
The selfish, the gluttonous, the jealous, keep performing their act,
what else could I do but accept it as just another grim fact?
Desolate the heavens, solitude fallen upon hell, wide open sits the perilous gate,
phantoms brood their blackness, and with withered branches, oblivion, I await.
