Underground world,
Never-ending darkness.
Dungeons dripping songs impossible to harness.
Everywhere I go, the blood is painting rivers.
Raging roars and stomping steps will make you grievous.

Trying to resist the urge, but no successes.
After many trials am I forced to face it?
Longing for the freedom of the limbs and thinking,
Everything's futile and living things are trinkets.

Ground smells like me, and I confer with reason.
Every single beat of heart is bits of treason.
Nightly howls escape the twisted face of sorrow
Only to remind that there is no tomorrow.

Closing aching eyes, exhaustion closing nearer,
I observe reflections in a black glass mirror.
Days of slaughter past, a question never leaving:
Ever have I thought of what I was achieving?