• Reverberating shouts from Satans own -
    Haunting ye in the eve of corpses.
    Schizophrenia is but an excuse,
    And what he saw was but more than that.
    He saw more than shadows, he saw through glass,
    Finding misery bound and gagged in a heart;
    A neck so soft and white and he plummeted.
    The man lost his own train of sight.
    He searched along the shores hoping
    Maybe to find a mouldy courser,
    But to his dismay all that came ashore was ravings
    Of the ravishing dead men in Hell.
    A river flew forth from his eyes and he realized
    What exactly became of his face, and now he breathes
    Almost spasmodically, for he narrarates
    His own begotten past to find a future: maybe
    Deep in those foresty green eyes of a maiden,
    Whose purity might wipe the sin from his skin.
    And what of that hate that he abstained from and let corrode?
    It left scars and sights for later men to behold!
    He knows there's nothing left in him, but she gives him hope
    And she drowns him in lovely joy.
    His heart of stone fell to the floor, she found it
    And placed it upon her hearth of warmth and carpetry.
    It could almost seem like his stone was shaking -
    For something came back to him his senses waking.
    A terrific sleep ensued in which he dreamed
    That this love could redeem a crumbled life.