112 Dolor-Closed.

The rain drops gently from a mackerel sky.
Whipping and slashing my skin the wind howls
Sendng crows into a frenzy
Im wet to the bone.

My bones slowly begin to ache,
Frost setting in
Disturbing the surface of puddles
I walk alone.

The day has been long
The thought crosses my mind.
The wind and water erodes my soul
I cant take it any more.

Finaly I cross the divide.
Like my ancestors prior
112 Dolor Road
False shelter I find.

Greeted by despair
A deafening silence sets in.
In the dark solitude
I gravitate towards the fire

A rotten presence approaches
Inching ever closer
Shrouded in deceit,
A glance of malice

A pyroclastic torrent flows from this presence
How dare he?
His hate has made him
My suffering will define me

The residents of 112 Dolor Road.
Afflicted by the same disease
Enslaving Generations
Will the cycle ever end?

The darkness of the room is engulfed by his abhorrence
Deafening silence still pervades
The tyrant has no power
My frozen demeanor is my shield.

The cold grey world
My salvation!
I have come of age
I will not continue a cycle.

The torment of my past will stop
The Tyrant has not defined me
My offspring shall never know such Dolor
The Tyrant's cycle has come to an End!