My heart is a labyrinth,
A cage of my own making;
Den of demons tamed,
Empire of uncrowned kings.
Built over a precipice
Of dead infatuations,
Forsaken nostalgia,
And ruined vanities.
To trap a beast yet again,
I visited its familiar walls;
Gladly I lost my self
And paid a high toll;
Only to save my soul.
Not long did I linger
Within the hollow chambers;
Echoing broken lullabies,
Sung in refrains of lies.
I stormed the champion's gate,
And marched toward east,
Where the sun does not rest,
At the cry of a thousand dawns;
But rather from the silence,
Of my war-torn chest.