This was a spontaneous idea that was conceived in literal minutes and developed over the course of less than an hour. Despite not having spent too much time overthinking, however, I personally feel I have managed to depict everything exactly to my desire.
“Son of Stars”
He soars the moonlit murky mist,
Through the flock that dares exist –
Son of stars, the son of suns –
And all he ever sees, he shuns.
Descending now in plain disgust,
With burning eyes devoid of lust,
He treads upon our hollow bones,
Reclaiming a nocturnal throne.
The sickly screams of writhing worms,
Of mortals who refuse to learn,
The beauty of eternal fears –
Symphonies feeding his ears.
And all he’d ever loved before –
Like salt upon an open sore –
He burries with a primal thirst
In a blood clot black and cursed,
In the ink-soaked pages dark,
The void that used to be a heart,
In each letter, every verse,
In putrid life wasted dispersed.
And he ponders worlds undone –
Maker of stars, breaker of suns –
And upon his moonlit throne,
The son of stars withers alone.