By Vincent Valentine

From within the lair of souls departed

I feel as though I’m constantly bombarded

With fears and tears for the spirits give chase

Outside their dying case of the bodies once to them belonged

And their existence as departed spirits now prolonged

For all eternity to wander the graveyard

And choosing to haunt me, theirs the ensnared, attentive, bard

Though I would like to escape to the world of the living

I do indulge in giving into my own curiosity

And am trapped by the impeding power of the spirits

Therefore must remain in the specters’ vicinity

Otherwise I assure you, I would be escaping

For the horrid sights I see, my nausea causing

Are beyond what I prefer to bear

And the awful stench in the air

Makes me sicker than the sights of the dismal lair

Of the spirits, terribly mad

Almost so much so it makes me sad

And my stomach sickly

And the fog is thickly

Obscuring the view of the gate

Preventing my escape