My pain, my oath
The life I define as a growth
To battle heart with yours
Is to sink and pour
A feeling, melded in meaning
Struggle to see and believe
The life of yours I perceive
To be other than my own
Is a hollow stretch I have sown
Itch of the blacksmith to earn it as whole
To forge a love in nothing but coal
Burn it in my furnace
And power my machines
Knowing your fire is nothing but mean

The cold of hard iron
You build the spire of which I admire
A cold influx of emotion
And a career where you found devotion
Chill the metal and make yourself periodic
And I will craft you into something more sporadic
A metal meant for war
Passion of the sheathe you wore
To do nothing but settle a score
Of who's love bore
The scandalous prize of more
Or more.

My life is in iron
Forged in the heart of the pyre
I am the one who builds this nightmare
The weapons that do nothing but fare as a weaponized liar
A battle I perpetuate
And a soul I can not consulate
But to make up for with a payment
I will ignore you persistent ailment
And follow my own path
As the blacksmith, ignorant of your goals
Fought under oath it do help the sociopath
But rather show the animosity of it's written scrolls