Pity Passion

Between the worlds, there lies a plane old
Barren, desolate and wrong
In shadows that whisper, sombre and glee
And time stops, hauntingly still

Therein lies my love, broken and bent
Made to wait, unable to go,
For it waits and waits, for what, who knows
All it speaks, if it does, are curses old

Of magics pagan, blaspheme and ruin
May fire take its accursed tongue
That utters lies of such sweet distaste
And revels in promises gone astray

For the work of the demon is for all to see
Sickly fruits of sacrilege
So may light to it never come
Even as the flesh of it is licked away

So chared and charmed, the will endures
As the body buckles under the will of god
For if there is salvation, it’s through the plague
Equal parts pleasure and pain