Bidden, I have come, rescued of the hellish doom that permeates in entropic sin.
Who hears my account of the horror filled waking dream, in bedlamous din.
Timid and awake, a fledge reborn to the nest, thrust from the protections of overseeing eye.
Wings unfurled, head held high, the black bird takes to the cloud pregnant sky.

This scar I bear refuses to heal,
marring my visage, wrecking my appeal.
Glowing with an angry light,
a reminder of some vicious past slight.
Was it in battle that it first appeared,
or due to vengeance, violently seared.
I wrack my brain to find the cause
but its inception fails to give me pause.
The sole thing which occurs to me
is that its beginning lies from my mortality.
Carried over to my ascended life...
it yet burns and pains me, filling me with strife.
What baneful truth lies hidden in this mark...
threatening from the past, rising from the dark.

Such emotion is this
to break idle bliss.
A madness to take hold,
unholy and fearful to behold.
Touched by ire and driven blind,
raging the torrent, swept aside in kind.
Destroyed in a moment
forever lost, to lament.
The piercing pain and throbs
tearing away compassion for racking sobs.
Deserved or misdirected, matters not the least,
visage reshapen to seven sinned beast.