In the silence of the night, he stands alone,
A heart of stone, within the void unknown.
Eyes like crimson, burning through the gloom,
A master of fear, who forges doom.

Cloaked in grace, his presence commands,
The trembling of mortals beneath his cold hands.
He moves through the dark, a specter of dread,
In pursuit of power, where hope is dead.

The first of demons, a being once pure,
Now cursed with eternity, forever unsure.
His laughter resounds, a discordant refrain,
Each soul he claims, a mark of pain.

Beneath the mask, in shadows concealed,
Lies a past of torment, a wound unhealed.
A hunger for power, a soul turned cold,
In the darkened depths, his story unfolds.

With every clash, his fury alights,
Blades clash in fury, in desperate fights.
Yet heroes arise, with hearts that gleam,
To challenge the darkness, to set the heart ablaze.
-Lady Chiyo

© Daniel Loï
this is not my poem but from a friend of mine. I already got her full permissions to post this.


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