I am my own worse enemy, behind lies lain in self.
Though, long in path, this strife is owned, untamed, dispite what's felt.
Wherein, staid dreams of sweat-filled Past come to stir The Id in
embrace. And with mournful sighs, It pierces night to drive forth heartless
As the rivers run red in spiritual blood, to course with Fate's filled
swells, The Heavens reign down Its trumpet's call, wherein, prey
thirstless wells. And, to fill Its void in depthless pools with all that life has
feared; Hell does take what Life remains uncut, found in the foil of tears.
With no God of Mind; though, His Hell conceived, for to pray this soul's
release. In that, now what is done will instil that which comes...no lasting
inner peace. As, into Limbo dwells all told with Eternity's homeless bound.
And, no God of Heaven, nor of His Hell will replenish owned, dryless well.