Only Demons from Tragedies by Death of a Poet

With one look back I admire the scene,
The wake of devastation transcends obscene.
Convulsing corpses strewn all around,
My victory will be forever sung on this blood-soaked ground.

The journey inward continues on,
Marked with battles effortlessly won.
But what treasure shall await those who fight,
Without a passion of their own?

Committed to my quest, little could I see,
Sand slipping by like wind through the trees.
Focused on the next quick kill,
The icy chill of death now surrounding me.

It would seem there’s only demons in me.
Dancing from shoulder to shoulder;
No angel to oppose or persuade for another way.
Each step pressing further into misery.

Lungs heavy with air too rank and vile,
Death’s sweet stench leaves my stomach to roil.
Like a siren’s holy song of the sea,
Disparity is all that’s left for me.

Gazing upon moon drenched spires,
My feet carry me home.
Skeletal branches pricking my skin,
Further fueling the dread within.
Far too long have I resided with ghosts,
Goblins, and creatures unknown.
The wisp of mist fatefully revealed,
This hell is my own.

• Death Metal
• Electronic Metal
• Melodic Metalcore
• Metal
• Metalcore
• Symphonic Metalcore
• Cincinnati