When spills the life of a high nexus of thought,
For reason uncalled,
Whatever can be salvaged of what is dying can be sought.
The bible of darkness.
The notebook of death.
Unable in dying tremors to suppress.
Once touched, the eyes of blackness spew forth, and the dark form attains birth.
Cast away are ideals once preserved with great mirth.
The shadow is cast over the former-as Earth.
Into a wasteland of dark love.
A place that scares even demons in Rebirth.