That wretched plot of death, from which the worms fed upon my flesh...
My tomb, it is no longer.
From the majesty of God, or rather, the blackest rite, my eyes are wide.
Carrion no longer. I will have what was torn away.
I stand!
A belated chance to rectify.
Solace from rebirth unto the living.
Pacified...
My hunger...
I beg for your touch.
For the warmth of your flesh, against mine, I swear I would die!
She's draped in mystery. A shroud of my own deceit.
Delusion, it may be, but bonds beyond depths of abysmal descent aren't as rare as one might think.
I can't escape the reality that she is mine, and mine alone, as I am hers.
Father hear my cries.
I'll sacrifice all that I am for a moment to glimps through my hand covered eyes...
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