Black Metal

Hard cold eyes.
Set on faces of black and white,
Unchanging, staring into souls of dark,
Calling onto a primal power,
The only constant in a world
Filled with thousands of faces of terror,
The thought of the loss of fruition in your plans,
The fact that you'll never know,
Staring into the blank face of chance.
The yin to the yang,
Keeping the world in check,
And hopefully one day taking it back.
This is Black Meta