The Outsider

A cheering light I’ve never seen.
My days are bleak, sans the serene.
These ancient walls I never left.
From balming sleep I’ve been bereft.

Solitude has always been my lot,
cobwebs and shadows, rats and old toads.
How long I dwell in here I soon forgot.
In smell of ages gone and putrid moats.

There is bitter comfort in my days that have no sun.
Through ruins of decay I haunt, I am the Eidolon.
I linger on old graves, I exist unseen.
The outcast and the wretched spawn, I am the unclean.

For in one night I touched the cold,
and polished glass thus had insight.

A fiendish ghoul of gruesome shape and view,
stared at me in fright and awe.
But once I took a closer look I knew,
the dreadful horror, myself I saw.

There is bitter comfort in my days that have no sun.
Through ruins of decay I haunt, I am the Eidolon.
I linger on old graves, I exist unseen.
The outcast and the wretched spawn, I am the unclean.

I feast upon the beauty of things that others shun.
In netherworlds and crypts I dwell, I am the alien one.
I wallow in the old world, in things that they condemn.
Through solitude and shadow, the outsider I am.

Through solitude and shadow, the outsider I am.