My 9th Rhyme

The 9th rhyme caught him by an ill forgotten storm. He had always buried it and is now left to be forewarned. His doom generated regrets as the ending was set to scorn. His drained soul had always played the fool. It has come time for him to stop being so cruel. Frustrated and negated by an ill state of plunder. This was an unknown dark thunder. Listed as a never foreseen wrath. Brought on by the deranged pharmaceutical flask. Those here empty stolen courage minus the purgatory like law. The righteousness steps into thaw. Once perceived as a reflection flaw. No longer will he be degraded by the narcotics claw. The next poison dispenser who approaches will hate what he saw. This hated dark chariot will no longer bate. It is time to walk the line with a virtuous cleansed slate.