Of love, we know not,
Of compassion, we know less.
Haughtiness and hatred reside within souls of blackness,
causing hearts to despair, changing evermore, hurting all in its path.
Smiles are fake, lies deep as the sea flowing out with no end,
the moon a beacon of luminance piercing the Black Canvas hovering over our Rock.
Cries and screams in the distance, a sharp moaning of desperation,
“help is on the way!” as blood drips from a black rose to form a bottomless pool,
glimmering in cold ripples, hidden in the dark.
Alone, desolate, abandoned,
despondently trying to slither away,
away from the light, the exposure of truth, the words that aren’t real.
Pieces of the Core scattered, never to be mended.
Acardiac beings silent as the stars,
half-painted grins on their visage of incredulity,
staring with cold eyes from the shadows,
satisfied with their deeds.