Ascent From Hell

The scars, the bruises,
Shackles of the past.
One day, they'll rust away,
But now they're windows
To the soul.
A peek at the wreckage
Stubborn to stay.

The heart is drained.
Empty deep and wide.
Yet so heavy, spilling
A substance dark and cruel.
Just short of hope,
Just short of understanding
Silhouettes of a nightmare.
Time itself so demanding.

The setting of the crimson sun
Burns long shadows
On the path.
A winding road drenched
By salty floods.
Behold, the aftermath.