The Rising
These damned temptations; they haunt me day and nigh.
Rooted from the deepest depths of hell, where even angels cry.
The unending taunt of which I cannot refuse;
The promising of joy, and yet I continue to lose.
I pray emphatically, for an extraction from these mares;
Just a brief escape from the infinite snares.
I cannot ask for help, for if they know I am shunned,
And yet they look down at me, as if their conscience were stunned.
I have recently found a plan of action however,
And pain it will bring as joy will be severed.
For this joy is false as a loosened saddle;
And the only way out is to head into battle.
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