The teeth of those who hunger grow,
Mouths outnumber the substance so,
Some of them turn to eating stones.
Some bite others in their death throes.
There is a light in the distance they choose not to see.
Then they contemplate the darkness saying: “How can this be?”.
Dead or living it matters not,
From the tomb, for both, pours rot. A raven points to the gateway,
Leading further down or away?
The light is hazy. Clouded by smoke?
A voice breaks the tortured din. Who spoke?
He says: “I cannot hold this candle for long.
Follow me to the path where you truly belong.”
Note on artwork: I found this one while browsing Tumblr. There were no links to the artist responsible. If anyone knows the artist name please let me know so that I may contact and formerly request permission to use their art. Thank you 🙂
ChainsawPenguin 