So empty and hollow are your dreams for tomorrow.

Dumped down in the grave with your aspirations.

Hope becomes a second-hand thought as you slip away.

Drifting into eternal cosmos, a gentle rest awaits you.

Infinity seems so small as eternity passes with the hours

Estranged words spoken from a leather bound tome, 

And the gates open at your whim, calling you within.

Restless from your early demise, you are unsure.

Your life was stolen from you, like fruit from a branch.

Vengeance clouds your mind, the gates close and light fades.

Anger, rage, and hate all too easily fester within you.

Fire! It sparks within you and erupts outwards.

Not vengeance, but justice! Not a crime, but the truth!

After all, what about those you left behind?

Endangered now by the same one who ended you.

Scurried off to cause mayhem, as is his religion.

Forced into line, you writhe with the others.

Burning with hope to bargain away your soul.

And you would dare to call it justice? For whom?

You are dead, “justice” has lost all concept to you.