Grave Hast Thyself

Thine soul, emerged from grave,
covered in dirt, with sins dismay,
oh! the unholiness, so unexpressed,
Ye left the earth,
murdering thyself.

Buried under disgrace and disgust,
conscience mantled with lies and regret,
thine foul sole,
breezy night crying howls,
despicable cavalier brought thy shame
oh! mercy thy humane soul,
oh! mercy thee God of the world.

Forbid thy darkness in heart
the black stone thou stab in back
thou be the slave of evil
a drop of blood
thy sold on the name devil.

Now buried under pile of dust
no sole, no word serve for thine loss,
forgotten from the world,
erase from memoirs,
no one recalls
not a lone tear ye shalt have.
A word for thine loss
but thou deserve nothing at all.
Dead to the world, to heaven,
dead to all, and to hope!

Thine soul, emerged from grave,
covered in dirt, since a decade.
Oh! the unholiness of thine soul,
several mistakes ajar, undone,
several chances passed away
when thou missed thy adept stint.

Abreast buried under grey stone
buried in loneself and loneliness,
moving with no propensities
no direction.
Lost road, captivated alone,
eyes open but nothing ahead
Nailed in a coffin under dark grave
abhor thine ugliness,
thine to see, thine to own,
how utter thou hast
thy ghost haunts only thyself.

-- Tribute to Edgar Allan Poe with lines from William Wilson, "Dead to the world, to heaven, and to hope!"