When winter has almost gone , and winds carry away shelter of my suffering ,a scarlet show, thus deepest of heartstrings awoke,become undone,undying blasphemous mockery at martyred soul...
Plague shall not come, fatalistic conspiracy by an accord of emaciated starlit giants...
So easily heaven fall, and its ruins no longer can conjure with death upon bloodless flesh, I am crown of bestiality, I should bow to none, unless it appeal to my cynic nature, doomed to be thyself, abusive glare of eternal darkness quietus could not ever crash...
I to beg young flowers to recreate fragrance you've emitted...