Unquintessence - Whispers of Funeral Omen

Of a sixth sense, I am graced
The everlasting shrieks of tortured souls, I hear
Chained in my mind, whispers of funeral omen
I’ve dreamt about fields of cadavers, about murder & mayhem
I’ve seen endless horizons of black desolation
All too real, the smell of decrepitude, the taste of silence

Withdrawn far away from the silvered surface
Beneath the Earth’s warmth, away from the celestial vault
Lost in an Abyss-like shadowrealm, hungry & cold
Struggling to breath within this poisonous void
Where Dawn has long ago been slaughtered by his own sons

Surrounded by primitive lifeforms
That once wandered the Land like me
I am trapped in an unknown dimension
Hurling my despair & cursing my anguish,
My ravenous desire to escape those nightmarish truths
Plunged in a whirlwind of mourning, frozen by a disrupted terror
So futile!

High above me, I see this carnal envelop… figuring
Which is suppose to shelter my soul, though it is empty
Nobody seem to have notice the lifeless void in my eyes

Of an unbearable talent, I am the victim
Lurking at the threshold of a distorted primeval era
Numb and disoriented
Awfully entangled by an absolute reason: Denial!
Oh it hurts…

Vomiting an inaudible shriek
An horrid chant of impure disharmony
For I am reaped by the discord of countless martyred spectres
Cruelly cast away & exiled in this stinking Purgatory
Where all those years
I’ve been desperately crying my destructive return

Undesired birth without any glorifying warmth
My coming bursting the womb of Creation
And my cries… echoing the absence of choirs and kindness