It has eyes black as blood,
as was its soul which did flood,
the innocence that used to be,
the pointless shell of me.

The beast tends to restrain,
but, I can feel it slowly drain,
my incompetent sanity,
oh how I wish I was a child who believed in fairies.

But no, only the morning’s heat,
which does soon beat,
upon my skin,
to free me from that thing’s hungry grin.

Sometimes I hear its awful chanting,
almost like angry ranting,
It speaks in the morning,
about my family which is adoring.

Hey, I still have close friends,
with me ‘til the end,
They give me the strength to go on,
so I’ll no longer be that thing’s pawn.
I can feel the air lifting,
like something’s shifting
I may be free
But I must choose first how to flee.