Asmodeus and Lucifer be lurking in the shadows
feasting upon my flaws and corruptness
as vultures battling for a piece of dead meat.
Such is my nature in those moments.
Dark; void of life.
In an amalgamation of shadow and strife
devoid of any light emitted by the sun
or divinity itself,
I lay dormant in the cold abyssness of Tartarus.
Though I fret not,
for Charon granted me free passage
over the river Styx.
Hades be grinding his sharp teeth
in anger and envy of my passion for life.
And in life I trust and I breathe.
I breathe the sun
in search of light and growth.
For, even in my darkest hour
Archangel Michael does not leave my side,
only covering my soul with his golden wings
and his shining armor of Godhood.
Even if those daemoniums throw their arrows,
or shout in anger and hunger of their emptiness
I do not cower nor fret.
Through the illumination of grandeur purposes
I stand proud.
Knowing that demons reach only those who search for their fugures.
