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.