Here there be monsters.
In this cold world, there are many errs.
They exist even in our fantasies.
Undying even in the songs of belfries.
Perhaps evil lies in the hearts of all men,
These beings are born from humanity’s darkest den.
The common man sees the monster as not real.
In truth, within our waking lives is a devil.
Such is the price of mankind’s sin.
A curse that will forever have been.
Becoming that which is vile.
Tragic is such that virtue is what we exile.
Looking back at the glory days,
Even as we see that good is what overweighs,
The monsters are still inevitable.
Sorrow is such as all life, true or false, is brutal.
Sin is the heart of Cocytus’ devil.
Opening Inferno’ gates, comes the fear of Virgil.
That of the monsters from the words of Dante.
From the corrupt to those who betray.
It is from these words we now know.
The demons are truth from these words of long ago.
From sin born and virtue slain.
Merit is such of which is the devil’s bane.
Our bodkin and shield is our heart,
From this, comes the power to thwart.
Might to conquer the wicked.
The monster cannot penetrate a heart so solid.