The Frozen Lake, Pt. II (The Ruined)

My face pressed against the earth I heard the chorus of the leaves. Within the whistling gale a hoarse mother's shriek took shape And oh how he rejoiced behind that door overgrown. Bellowing in a sickly enfeebled tone The ashen smoke fills my body as my screams reach no further than his doorstep I waited and waited for the shackles to unbind The winds begin to crack my skin Still I lie in desolation Speak of the weeping the wailing song of anguish ever present in the atmosphere Acceptance heaves me through a whirlwind of tragic cinemas that repeat and extend Death looms over every corner of this keep Overseen by the weeping watcher Still I lie in desolation Speak of the weeping the wailing song of anguish ever present in the atmosphere Forbid me not from discovery For it is redemption that I seek The horrors behind this door haunt me still. There lies behind the bloodline hanged alive damned to suffocation Damned to look on as the birds chew upon their frantic kin Open the sky If this is true, then I relinquish the blood and the salt Come forth looming raven Speak of the weeping the song of anguish The winds begin to crack my skin carrying with them the ashes of the slain Never does the sun set with their cries absent Eating every soul that spills upon the black carpet that sits behind the crimson gate Cold Dead Hands Now Fold

Submitted by Iron_Wraith — Apr 26, 2025