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.
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