The Gilded Book

I don't know where I found this old book
Leather bound, with bite marks of some kind, probably of a famished hound
On its richly adorned, aged, gilded cover
An embossed often debated shape pointing south
Stained by the blood of the rabid dog's last victim's mouth

Inside several sequential etchings at the beginning of each chapter
all leading to an unequivocal mind-bending ending

The illustrations seemed to be clear, like mountain water running down a brook
Revealing an abysmal but simple truth

The thick linen pages told of a man who escaped prison in shackles and chains
By injecting rat poison daily in his veins
He was a man so shallow that all he talked about was impossible for most to follow
so empty, hollow, and full of sorrow
Everyone who had the misfortune
To meet him would tell him to change his way and to try living just for the day
because no one is ever promised a better tomorrow

He thought of himself as a messenger with a mission from up above, but his soul was easily corrupted by the entities from down below
I don't want to give away what most of you already know
It's all written way better in the book
I sought often but never bought
Never trust those with salamander eyes serpent' s tongue and flame like hair
It's brimstone from Hell that you'll breathe
for the rest of your life trapped in your lair