There is a place lost to time, unnamed
Ill considered, a fine civilization fell
Like seeds, the survivors were spread
In the wind, across the globe, in terror
I find myself in that hateful place
I dare not reveal my mind
Someday I'll find a home
Where I might happily dwell
Here I'm alone, screaming
From the sorrow of solitude
And historic events and memories
A tragic scene, neither holy nor serene
Hidden from view, I rot from within
For I have created a personal Hell
And here is where the devil is me
The devil torments just my being
But that won't matter
I am made of eternal things
No one else exists in his mind
Broken apart from the schemes
I create when alone in thought
Pain has broken me, broken me wholly
I can't bear the weight nor any burden
There is nothing left but a shell
Remains of any sympathy scatters
My symphony of greatness in tatters
I should go now, I'll certainly be back
This devil has his own stories to tell
“What looked like morning was the beginning of endless night”
 |
| Pandemonium by John Martin |
