There is a place deep in this heart,
It bleeds and leaks like my favorite lark,
Hiding in the dark it fights to make its true mark,
But its existence is as futile as it is a fright,
Leading and guiding hell and hate,
The fire and brimstone that only man can create.
It hurts to beat, the never ending drum,
Put my hand to my chest and think,
Is this the last one?

Hoping it goes away,
This curse this illness,
And I have no excuse,
I am my own worst witness.
Some days are better than none,
Even if this life is no fun.
I can whine and moan, or make the best on my own.
Everyone has problems,
But why does it feel like mine are alone.

Like you, there is a war,
For that place deep in my heart,
Invisible to eyes, and x ray machines,
But the battles are over,
The victor, one.
Long ago, it was decided,
As I cried blood from my bones,
That the Morningstar would win,
And the sunset would be gone.