I am hunger, fierce dark, and unending.
A wanderer curst, a traveler alone.
The keeper of the broken beyond mending,
kind companion to those who die unknown.
The solo, singular, the solitary,
they feed me, and I thank them for their pain
with gentle whispers of death, necessary
the beauty of blood, red fallen like warm rain.
I was the King of Night, I losses shadow.
The Lord of those who walked the burning stones,
whose hollow souls howled out their endless anguish,
whose knees I forced, sweet bent before my throne.
I once was King of Night and shall again be,
When those who threw me down lie, soul dead, before me.
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