And what has these long year given me,
what have I earned when I spilled-
spilled my tears for times, and my blood for some-else.
A curse that’s followed on for centuries.
wrapping around - an Ophidian of chains.
A hold growing tighter, every moment the eye blinks,
cutting off and trapping a part so insignificant.
Insignificant- in their eyes,
and yet, a beauty in the ones who lost,
as they guard it for a while,
protecting- until it is to rise.
Consumed by the abyss-
the black-hole hidden on land, the small entity of void,
encapsulates the man to be one he truly was.
An amphora of red, paints the ground,
the one going weak yet stronger inside,
Still, amidst the terror and turmoils,
their brethren loath the sacrifice.
Was this all a narcissistic notion, of a man who once confined.
The eyes dont blink- not anymore,
as the master has taken the stage,
the man- succumbed to the void-
to the shadow that has mastered the man in flesh.