A Pale December - Simulacrum

Resentment
There's a certain relish
In nurturing the fields of hate
Watching them plagued
By the light dearth
A fragile balance
Keeps the lurching structure above
Severed heads
Tote the top
Over the Sun

Layers and layers
Of endless decay
Here they were banished
And here they were buried
Never to be unearthed

With the dark
Came the awareness
They were granted
A glimpse of that majesty

Empty vessels
Adorned but fragile
Our souls crave for more
Arise

No hope is delivered
No light is shown
With wasted weary eyes
With grasping fallow hands
How foolish was I
To pursue persistence
I claim
No justice

A consonance
Of unholy prayers
Ascending, rising
As archers
With arrows striking at the heart
Of dying gods

A life spent
Trying to pierce through this numbing veil
With impermanence
Being the only constant

And if there's ever something more
Than this façade
Then we could safely say
The interiors would be adorned
With the most detailed canvas
Of our prolonged and thwarted efforts