The Lowman

Lonliness is godliness
He sleeps with the dead
Cleanliness is false
Soiled, defiled, he's dead

He hates the world
What's more?
He hates himself
The Reaper's whore

A smell of sleep
Far too long nightmares
Earthen decay loved
He'll never know sleep

He longs for death
How can he?
He's a lowman
Dead already

The tomb's a friend
Ossuary a house
He wants it all
Never allowed

His friends are dead
What happened?
Often it was love
He was their end

Intentions are pathways
He's always led to hell
Redemption's a hope
Worlds away, he's in hell

He hates the world
What's more?
He dreams of death
To be no more.

------NOTE------
this poem coincides with the story of The Lowman's Watching which you can find at http://twistedwickedtales.blogspot.com

here we find the lowman in the cemetery, contemplating what he cannot have.