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