Wraithborn - The Testament of the Infernal

I flee from home to find a bed for me to rest my head.
Again, the woods are calling me.
I dare not look back.

Something’s itching on my face.
My hands tell me that my skin and hair are not in place.
Shaken to the core
and stripped of peace.

I feel a flame within my heart.
But one I wish that I could douse.
I want nothing more.

This book which screamed my name,
and the hex that I yearn to break…
Will they define me?
How I wish I could turn back time,
to my years of peace.
The future holds nothing but
a dying place for me.

Hiding from the sun for days,
which turn to doleful years.
My skin is cold and gray,
as if I’ve risen from the dead.
The blazing sun above me,
gifts me with only burns,
while I curse the very thing that used to
rise me every painful morning.

I move at night to find my meals of
rotten, vile corpses.
Those of rodent, deer, and fledglings;
the ones who fell behind.
I haven’t felt a human hunger
a single cursed time,
since the night my father died.
I only want the dead.
I will only eat the dead.
It’s all I crave for,
It’s all I need.

On the eve of the seventh anniversary,
my time inside the forest has come to cease.
As I emerge this night,
from my woodland home,
I see before me,
Lights of which I’ve never seen.

The lights of Paris blaze before me
like a pyre.
I’ve found all that I have wanted,
I’ve found my home.
I take to the gates,
but before too long,
the smell of death seduces me.
I sneak inside,
and I follow underground.
I find the walls of skulls.
I touch the beds of bones.
With book in hand
and robes on back,
My home is the Catacombs.

The graves,
the fleshless,
the rotten and the lifeless;
they give me comfort in my time of darkness.
The Testament of the Infernal,
within my grasp.
I open thee,
show me what I seek.