Exile

From the eye of the storm, let the truth be told. From the hounds of hell to the kings of old. I rise from the shadows to fall back down. My anger is blinding and the only sound... Is of lightning and fire, yet I feel so cold. In my personal hell, events unfold. Driven to do and say these things. By my personal demon and the darkness he brings. Banished to the edge of a demented mind. My humanity is all but left behind. And thought it is strange I've no time to weep. For I'm slipping into a dreamless sleep. And you might think this is where my story ends. But at death's door is where it truly begins. Whether I sleep a millennia, a day, or a year. I will soon be awake, my time is near.