The Final Rest

This poem is about dying with your sins.

Battle scars toture the darkest of souls;
Curse the hands of the beholders;
Weep silently in their minds.

Prices of pain begin to pay;
Violent screams of hate;
The Ending road of twisted thorns;

Lonely black path of night;
Path of light;
Chosing a road most likely to be taken;
A Faith that lies beneath us;


We rises and awaken for peace;
Walking backwards into life;
The dead never sleeps;