Rest For the Wicked

Enamored with addicting, seething pain I do not rest, I do not sleep In tears, does she entrance and reap The back alleys of the mind insane At day, the constant monotonous train That is the crushing struggles too steep Kills industrial counting of sheep Awakens the pounding, sounding brain Exuding a fearless, wretched hate The eyes, flutter, a wanting extreme Invades the dull progression of light She is my all, my feelings innate Now caged inside my self esteem The stars that kill will shine too bright.