The Ripper

The weight of the human world has left me stricken with grief.
Underneath the quiet wisps of snow amongst the sombre valleys lies a hidden fallacy.
One of which breeds an ever growing extent towards the perceptions on the influence of man.  
Stricken with consciousness, I find that time adheres itself onto the many shadows cast upon still-beating hearts.
Time may reveal the cure to any of life's trepidations as it sees fit.
And here my conscious weeps at the midst of a serenade of self destruction.
Where the moon bleeds our brilliant veins of ash onto the depths of the night sky.
It is in this confused yet ecstatic state of mind where it is most free.
Clearing the thoughts of unbridled slavery that hath permeate the mind.  
The very essence of death could've never been cleansed from the house again.
For the perils and hauntings that echo amalgamations of evil have permeated deep within its structures.  
Every morning a warm breath of air submerges onto the dreary, vacant halls.  
Life whispering prayers of forgiveness onto the dead.
May the weeping deceased listen to your cries and respond back onto thyself
For the tales that shroud the dwelling in mystery rum rampant, and swell its morbid aura of decay into that of enchantment.  
One by one, angels fall as I reap the souls of the forgotten lambs led astray.
Seeking redemption clenched beneath the jaws of wolves.  
Seek not answers from the divine,  
for a mother's voice yearns silent when her children turn a deaf ear.
His body sentenced to rest upon a bed of brick and mortar.  
Decadent lines of crimson carnage decorate the walls and stain my hands.
Searing the flesh on crippled bones, my selfless act orchestrated under his command.  
His body awaking a putrid aura.
The extent of my perception leaves me to consider the surge of euphoria permeating my thoughts.