His spirit was like that of the ocean floor
Pages of unknowable dreams flipped pass as consciousness evaded him
In daylight hours he walked about in darkness feeding on despair and misery
Descending into an abyss of madness
Illumination and truth fuels the rage within
Inquisitions and crusades become his holy quest
The blood of innocents he now desires
Like an un-quenchable thirst that drives him
While an undeniable evil propels him
Parallel worlds dominate his existence
No sin goes uncommitted
To the top he rises falling
Deeper into the
darkness