Island

On a pile of Rubble stands a Lonely Tree
Thru its Barren Branches one can See...

A jagged Landscape of Grime and Boulder
Black Shadows, in sharp relief, make it Darker
Pale Ghostly Light shines down, of a Silent Moon
Ever so often, Punctuated by Howls of a Morose Wolf...
The Lazy Waves that lap up at Its Shores
Are Black Pools of water going about their Daily Chores
Sweet Soft Music plays, of Rustling Dead Leaves
It's akin to Funeral Music that echoes in a Church's Pews

In the distance the Evil Sea meets the Skies
Thunder rumbles and Lightning strikes
An Unholy Alliance, A Devilry Newfound
Threatens to Consume, a Ruthless March far-gone

The Black Tranquility, now so close to Death
Struggles to hang on, now in its final Breath...
Helpless and Surrounded, by Children of Despairity
Here Lies Me, an Island of Depravity