Praise be to The Flayed God

They say he asks
for something more than blood

Speak it’s name
Wrap it in a lie
I hope you know how to hide
But the stone speaks
Climb in

Where do I begin
I paid in pieces

One of malice
Two of certainty
Then a third of pride
Stripping me
Of skin

In little losses
that gather into life

Hate found places
It could not before
Where armor used to live
I called it weakness
And sin

I stand in a temple
That calls it weather

The flayed one approaches
I can hear the dripping
Oh the expectation, the fear!
Just one garment
Threadbare delicate
And sheer

Now there is almost
nothing left

Just a heart of sorts
bare enough to crumble
A beat that’s hard to hear
So much cruelty
So much death
So near

They say he asks, No
he’s taken nearly everything
But left a mirror so I can see
What he’s done
What he’s left
Resembles me