Cathedral of the Damned

Twisted spires pierce crimson skies,
Where gargoyles weep with hollow eyes.
Stained glass bleeds in shattered light,
Through windows of eternal night.

Broken saints with marble frowns,
Wear their thorny, twisted crowns.
Beneath the vaulted ceiling’s height,
Lost souls gather in their plight.

Incense burns with sulfur’s breath,
In censers swung by hands of death.
Down the aisle of crumbling stone,
Echo prayers of souls who roam.

Ancient bells toll out of tune,
Beneath a cold and copper moon.
While demon-priests in tattered stoles,
Collect their tithe of burning souls.

In rotting pews of blackened wood,
The damned sit where the blessed once stood.
Their hymns are screams that never cease,
In this dark house of anti-peace.

The altar drips with shadows deep,
Where fallen angels come to weep.
And in the crypt that lies below,
Unholy waters overflow.

Candlelight bends and twists in pain,
Through air that tastes of acid rain.
While Gothic arches scrape the sky,
Where hope came here to bleed and die.

This sanctuary of the lost,
Where grace lies buried under frost,
Stands testament to faith reversed —
Cathedral of the damned and cursed.