Darkness; sharp and bleak
Despondence; bitter and deep
Timeless, senseless, heedless, merciless
The end beckons,
Singing to me, its siren songs
Seducing me, enchanting me
It is lust, if lust was a desire to die
It is love, if love was mortally sinful
It is poetry, if poetry was an eternal dirge
For the agony of life is cruel and endless
For the pain of death, momentary and sweet
So I burn myself,
In the fires stoked in my heart
So I cut myself,
With the blades wrought in my soul
So I destroy myself,
In my final defiance of fate
My end beckons,
Singing to me, its siren songs
For death is lighter than a feather,
Duty, heavier than a mountain
But live I must, for the promises to keep
For the destinies to live,
And for tears to weep
But live I must, in shadows of sin
For there are battles yet to lose
And wars yet to win
