I must feed these demons that tear at my soul
For they hunger and thirst for my death
An offering of sorts, to appease and console
For they're lusting to covet my breath

The skin on my wrists begin to sigh
As the blade tries to comfort my veins
The death angel waits, he slowly draws nigh
Only a prayer for forgiveness remains

The demons rejoice in lieu of their prize
I can feel their claws holding tight
The darkness replaces the light in my eyes
I move farther away from the light

The floor turning crimson, the demons now drink
They grow drunk on this nectar of life
Death growing closer, he stands at the brink
And licks at the blood on my knife

The demons devour my last will to live
And mercy fades away like a mist
I gave them a gift that no man should give
Though I probably won't even be missed

Dear heartache, why must you hurt me so?
What must I do to end this pain, I beg you, let me go
You rip my soul to pieces, and steal my hopes and dreams
You've clouded my perception, for nothing's like it seems

Tomorrow holds no future, I'm a prisoner of the past
Cursed to live in darkness by the shadows that you cast
Your taste is in the food I eat, that's salted with my tears
Your stain is on my pillow case that never disappears

Dear heartache, when will you set me free?
What have I done to cause this pain, why must you torment me?
I've written you this letter inquiring of your spite
But I finally know the answer, you're the reason that I write

Long ago, before words were known
Sound simply didn't exist
A smile was the only thing needed
Or a tear, if someone were missed

Love was then, the language of choice
A silent show of affection
Until that day when sound was invented
The heartbreaking cry of rejection

A teardrop had finally found its voice
The silence was broken in two
A broken heart had finally spoken
And the people knew not what to do

No words of comfort could pass their lips
For words were yet to be known
So the sound of heartbreak spread like cancer
For those doomed to suffer alone

Words would one day come to fruition
And comfort would finally be found
But the silence was silenced forever more
Because the invention of sound

What spirit is this that steals my sleep
And haunts me from the past?
'Tis a phantom of a tragedy
That her mournful shadow casts

A restless soul that invades my dreams
While walking to and fro
She bids that I should come to her
As she seeks her Romeo

She wanders through my bedroom door
When I am fast asleep
Awakened by her cries for help
As I listen to her weep

This ghost I fear has evil intent
Though, I cannot see her face
She casts her spell upon my heart
And will not leave this place

Though she beckons me to go with her
I dare not surrender yet
Cursed to be a tortured soul
By the ghost of Juliet

Is a poet still a poet
if his work should go unread?
Or is he just a dreamer
with words inside his head?

Does a poet keep on writing
though no one knows his name?
Or spill his soul 'til his fingers bleed,
searching for his fame?

Does he dream of Poe as he writes his verse
in poetic harmony?
Or Count the Ways like Browning did
in sonnet forty-three?

Does he Take the Road Not Taken
like the late great Robert Frost?
Or take the road the others take
to find out that he's lost?

A poet is a poet
if his work should go unread
His words will stand the test of time,
in something that he said

Woe, unto this heart of men
This mortal soul, I fear is weak
I question God, is this sin?
Bold I was, now humbled and meek

Forsaken by the breath of life
My lungs betray my need to breathe
My heart is pierced by an unseen knife
A foe, my mind cannot perceive

My dreams held captive by enchanted smiles
My hunger, a thing of the past
My sleep now stolen by these wicked trials
A torment, that's unsurpassed

What curse is this that leaves me maim,
And renders my body weak?
Does this demon have a name,
That paints my future bleak?

Alas, this wound will never heal
It festers within a crippled soul
'Tis love that's robbed me of my will
For I no longer have control

He never asked for anything
When they nailed Him to the tree
His only crime was stepping through time
To set the whole world free

He made the moon and all the stars
Then hung them in the sky
The one true Light that shined so bright
Would close His eyes and die

He made the flowers and all the trees
But one became the cross
The dogwood tree would forever be
The tree that brought our loss

He made the rivers and all the seas
But the thing I hate the worst
Before He died the Savior cried
These words, He said, "I Thirst"