Frayed Mourning

The feather of sin is nigh

As the strands connecting 

My mind to my heart 

And the starry eyes on me

Fail to help me rise.

I argue with the mundane

To unleash their pathetic pride

For every step I take

Their faith I shall challenge

So that I may summon their bane.

For Satan waits in my hallways,

Peering through the holes he's poked in me

And burning away fragile shell

Bit by bit my hell is being made

For I'll nest there one day, as Satan seeks another victim to waste.