And the faceless looked upon the living and heads tilted in
Anguish, in hated of those features, that expressed
As theirs were but a blank state, could we ascend into there
Fears of an existence where nothing was shown but torn
Into our reality through pain.

Each yearned to expresses their contempt and would push the
Sheath between here and there, their finger would delve in
To those features that wished to show the pain they felt, so
Numb in that place of shadows where only the featureless
Were searching  in darkness. There are only silhouettes of
Shadows of former self's craving for the memory of before.

It doesn't matter to them that the flame past, that moments
Now extinguished they craved the time that was, not the
Nothingness, the faceless that they have now become. Wanting
To see through eyes not their own, to utter those grievances
That were not spoken in those past moments now dust.

The reaper left them in that place where evil lies upon thorns,  
That lacerate where innocence feeds into those that corrupted it.
To the darkest place and what was tainted now onyx blackened
No longer is there   humanity in this husk of shadow but taint
That was left upon death and it feed upon self, and feed well.

A shadow only has power in the dark but, we are darkness
In the light with our thoughts, that show them the faces that the
Faceless wish to show the pain of their loneliness. The darkness
Has a face and it is blank, it wants to see through your perception
Through you it wishes to vent its featureless obsession .