Upon my soul,

Oh this poor, weary thing,

Hide secrets, secrets too deep,

Blasing desires that hunt me

Bleak colours and black ink,

That they paint the world I see

In every shade of selfishness,

Anger and consuming greed.

And I try to fight them some more,

To cage these demons that haunt

The inside of my bereft soul.

To silence their whispers that fuel

All these ugly things... but they leak,

Oh tempetation always gets me.

At the worst moments it shows,

Reminding me I'm just a mortal

That can never be satisfied

In this world.