Hour Of Penance

Slave of a forthcoming world.
I walk a path of
solitude, step by,
step, until my precious grave,
further from where you are,
to fall one more time again.
Isolate, I made walls of silence.
Feed me with your emptiness,
triumph of weakness,
I've learned to afford it.
Things have never been so clear.
I must erase, replace
'till my nerves are tense.
I won't feel pain, I won't feel cold.
Emptiness brought me down
to desolation unknown.
Losing shape, I feel relief.
Between two plans of void
I'll make you suffocate
while you're bleeding from the outside.
That's what hate had built on me.