Foresaken

The darkened mask of coming dread

Stares out with endless, blackened eyes.

The phantom figure, living dead

A fallen soul whom fate decries.

Machines which draw another breath,

Propel another graceful stride

Hold back the waiting hand of death

Hold back the sleeping man inside.

The body, now a prison

Resurrection, now his doom

The armor, now a coffin

The darkness, now his tomb.

The body ravaged, spirit torn

A stolen life, a haunted past

Of fire and hatred, once reborn

And in a mold of malice cast.

A force of evil, turned to bring

A choking death of unseen hand

A demon lies in wait to spring

With scarlet blade upon the land.

Is freedom now beyond him?

Does light within still burn?

Or has the hatred claimed him?

Can the fallen still be turned?

Or does he now lie empty,

Hollow, and enslaved?

Bound to his sins so tightly,

Foresaken by the saved.