Abased by my grief,
 the troubled mind I bear,
 drags me down the abyss of
 endless loneliness.

 Enlight the reek in which you dwell.
 You re the weak your soul has fell.
 -Hear the prayer of a lost soul.

 Even though the greatest of my wishes
 is being stoic, God has made me
 one of many stooges.

 [bad word] only thou
 who is alike myself.
 I merge with the darkness
 that embraces me for who I am.

 Emaciated by their faulter moves,
 they hide under the cloak of blasphemy.
 Desperately yearning for love,
 finding only misery Avount

 Now I loath the presence of God,
 whom I had such [bad word] in.
 Only to be abandoned,
 my hardest of times.

 Pierce the mind see what is not.
 Try to sense the spirit rot.