Letting my mind slip into insanity
Willingly I pluck away at my core
My mind is sore, my life is a bore.

Lovingly I gaze, allowing myself to hate
Sinking willingly, not noticing it�s too late.

And when despair strikes me, and I feel lost
Renouncing my entity will come at a high cost

I�m sinking within my own mind.
Finding myself bound by toxic quicksand
Always feeling lost with a harder road to find
Alone and with no one to lend me a helping hand.

It is a weakness which I purge from this soul.
A burden I carry, a heavy load.
To carry His truths is my role.
My eyes shine with wonder as I behold.

My Master, Lord Sartan. Nothing I do can be enough.
My worship endless, representing your truths, tough.

The end line seems distant.
And standards stand high.
Representing You all must be consistent
Allowing Your evil to withstand against all which is to be a lie.

Great Lord of Evil. Humbly we serve.
Living Your truths we hope we can come to deserve.

Dreaming of the day to see our Lord.
To be embraced with the honour to behold.
Our eyes to be gifted with Your vision.
On our path to serve we shall know no submission.

Lord of all Evil, when your voice rips across the skies.
Ripping apart our cores from within.
Evil will have triumphed over all lies.
And shall You and Your cause finally win.


Note : Though I would have loved to be able to direct this poem to Lord
Sartan, I stand in no possition to do so and humbly know my place.

Penned by my hand on the 21st of Phaestian, in the year 370 AF.