The Lost Soul

Deep in the night he staggers
Hidden by his cloak of daggers
Eyes black as the dead of night
Peering like a raven with impeccable sight

A scavenger son born of a whore
Although his mother he did adore
She left him alone in angst and with a pain in his chest
As she passed away but her spirit has not been laid to rest

It follows him wherever he goes
And in his soul the evil grows
Demonic and hollow is the sound of his heart
With a rhythm-less echo of a horseless cart

His hapless tears fall and turn into ice
As he's done a deal with the devil at the shake of a dice
For he'll always be his mothers wretched son
And her influence over him will never be undone