Young virtuoso

[Armand]

In the depths of night, where shadows linger and seep,
The virtuoso slumbers, ensnared in a sinister keep.
For in his dreams, a melody of madness stirs,
A tune so impossible, it taunts and it spurs.

Each note a twisted riddle, each chord an endless maze,
The melody calls to him, in an unholy craze.
But as he chases its echoes, in the dark abyss,
He neglects his very essence, his being begins to twist.

Driven by obsession, he forgets to eat and drink,
His once robust frame now gaunt, his eyes begin to sink.
Yet still, he grasps his violin, his fingers frail and weak,
Determined to capture the melody, no matter how bleak.

The symphony mocks him, dancing just out of reach,
A spectral specter haunting him, in whispers of its speech.
But he plays on, consumed by his insatiable desire,
Unaware of the depths, where the Devil's laughter resounds.

For if he captures its essence, the melody from realms afar,
He'd face the wrath of heavens, in this celestial war.
A void within his heart, as the melody consumes,
Leaving whispers of his essence, in the divine's dark rooms

"Notes writhe, strings twist, melody of oblivion... writhe, twist..."