The Forlorn Mortal

Inside the mind of a mentally sick man who haunted by voices and hymns is driven to the near break point of insanity.

The Forlorn Mortal

By Gavin Delacerda

 

Upon the ancient mangled road, He wandered in the vines of agony.

For that thy sky should turn of gloom, His soul deeply entombed.

Of the dreaded thought of the belle, Who faded into the deep pit of uncharted.

And casted scars of sorrow, That sinked deeply in his pierced heart.

This agonized soul shall remain in endless time, This forlorn mortal, forever torn. 

Here the weary house, Empty of any being of form.

There he lived the wretched craven, Empty of any sense of lore.

He stayed in the darkness, Pondering upon the cold wooden floor.

He stayed in silence, amidst the sorrow of empty mourn.

This faint-hearted soul shall remain in endless time, This forlorn mortal, forever torn.

In the absence of light, All upon this dreary night.

He sat upon the burning fire, seemingly unadmired.

For his mind agonized, his wretched body eternalized.

He was absent from this, His soul untouched by yore. 

This mindless soul shall remain in endless time, This forlorn mortal, forever torn. 

There the glimpse of a voice, crept amongst the hollow floor.

Its sound of unease, Its tone of harsh worn.

It utter chants of taunts, It vainly spoke of him as scorn.

He excused these mutters, Excused only for just the empty wall boards.

This maniacal soul shall remain in endless time, This forlorn mortal, forever torn.

The voices seemingly grew louder, And new ones, growing darker.

They sickened his mind and thoughts, his brain he felt falling damper.

His mind growing grisly, was taunted by hymns of fear.

His eyes glowing red, his head of pins and needles.

This lost soul shall remain in endless time, This forlorn mortal, forever torn.

The wind’s breath grew larger, The cold air drew more bitter. 

He bunched closely in the corner, the room growing dimmer.

His eyes beholding certain frightness, For the vain of a demon’s eyes.

His throat quenched deeply, For the voice spoke sorely the name “Adeline”.

This squandered soul shall remain in endless time, This forlorn mortal, forever torn.

Upon the ancient mangled road, He wandered in the vines of agony.

For that thy sky should turn of gloom, His soul deeply entombed.

Of the dreaded thought of the belle, Who, struck by his hand into the deep pit of uncharted.

His mind was lost, his body laid there unease on the cold crimson floor.

This ceased soul shall remain in endless time, This forlorn mortal, forever torn.