Goddess of the Mist

Unless I Suffer

How I long to do something 

not desperate enough for anything 

guess you will only be happy  

when my blood runs dry 

 

The life of a slave 

when your life has no meaning 

to you and the wretched few 

who dare to try 

 

Unless I suffer 

which makes you happy 

There is meaning in that 

at least 

 

It makes you happy  

The hurting one 

The one they call the beast 

 

In my past life I was a slave 

lives have come  

and they have gone 

Toiling for you tirelessly 

in this grand illusion 

 

Some things remain the same 

all over again are done 

Incomprehensible 

Unrelenting 

the dregs  

of a broken 

religion