The quintessence of a battlefield,
forms the vascular pieces within me.
an incubus bringing de ja vu.
nightmares that are nothing of you.
Old evil left me with lacerations,
but the dressing often slips away.
and I'm clutching onto my trepidation.
building walls in my mind to coerce satan.
I try to remember when you reach out your hand,
you differ from evil, past or present.