Sweet disposition in the abyss of darkness,
The shattered symbolic image,
It echoes against the cracked walls of a broken soul,
Reverberating in the emptiness of nothingness.

This is his solitude, his fortitude.
The darkness engulfs him,
A Storm of negativity with no end.
Every man's nightmare,
One man's fortress of salvation.

He thrives on this world,
Where shattered souls seek refuge,
He offers them complacency,
Nothing more or less,
Just comfort,
Enough to keep them from fading into the forge of hell.

Older than dust,
Only he can decipher the true pain.
The pain that blinds so many,
Makes them beg for the solitude he gives.
He is but an angel,
An angel of the blackest night.

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