The desolation of my heart,
Is the pride of your art,
As you paint in crimson blood,
The prize of your mark

The entrails of my carcass,
I've died from the start,
Your sacrificial lamb,
That you slaughter for parts

Away to Death Valley,
I'm hung from the arch,
As lightning strikes my body,
Yet my screams don't depart

Carried within your gates,
You stride and you march,
As the villagers light torches,
I'm burned by the spark

Doomed to damnation,
Surrounded by dark,
The demons are grabbing,
They howl and they bark

Shadow covet my flesh,
I've died from the ark,
It's hellfire and sulfur,
No angels or harps.

Writing outside my zone. Inspired by Michael-Sorbello