A Work In Progress!

There's a silence in his chest,
For it is hollow.
Within his demeanor evil rests,
And the blind do follow.

The faithless search with broken hearts,
For his sinister wisdom.
And he rips their souls apart,
But yet they worship him.

They welcome the pain,
And prefer his torture.
Because when they love again,
The love is soon over.

Upon them a control he has found,
And that hold he'll keep.
Til they're buried beneath the ground,
In endless sleep.