Riddled by the Past

Darkness reaches down for me,
Like the gnarled fingers of the damned.
I search to have the mind to be,
The one you understand.

Though deep inside this heart of mine;
Lay the burdens of the past.
A tortured soul so long forgotten,
A man who's always last.

Upon darkened roads, of dead mans bones;
The isle of a weary soul,
Leads you on to another path,
And down another hole.

Into the pit, the deserted place,
The pains are laid to rest.
For now the sins of the one before,
Are placed upon my chest.

The wretched rotting decaying corps,
lies stretched before my eyes;
Where the raven, crows, or vultures grasp
Couldn't reach it where it lies.

The stench, the pungent oder of death,
Overwhelming the the inner nose
Leaves behind a grizzly tale,
Of a man lost in bitter woes.

So with a hand that now is withered,
That hinges by yet a strand.
I can see you've read this poem;
And now you understand.