silence once more,
a dusk still bright,
enough to see,
too much in sight,
the pain of existence a sick malediction.

wander in stride,
with the whores mind,
a faceless wretch,
slain by your pride,
body buried in snow descending from sky.

multifaceted flake,
the ashes of angels,
the dusk still fleeting,
on where you fell,
not even time lives in the forest of night.

created and cast,
into the storm,
your empty god,
feels not remorse
you are not now nor ever were loved