Agony Inside of Me
Life is often painted in black and white
nothing darker do I fear
than the stygian plight of death.
My malaise is carried with unbearable weight
remembering each waking moment when
I didn't say "thank you" or "I love you."
Self-reproach is a penance I can never fulfill
because the dreadful thief of death
took you from me in the ebon reach of night.
I'm sick of hearing the meaningless words,
"You're lucky to be alive. Life is beautiful."
My life is a beautiful lie now that you're gone.
I'd give my life to find a way to you.
An alabaster portal is locked to me,
a pitiable wretched sinner.
If I were to paint it black would there be a chance
it would be blind to see who asks entrance?
But my fear of death...
keeps me from reaching into the pale to find you.
I cower in shame.
Damn my trembling hand that quivers and shakes,
for the portal denies my entrance.
My mind is an unassailable weapon against my will.
It paints in oils that are always blurred with kohl
and the agony inside of me will never be consoled.
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