This heartache
has woken
the quiet demon
from its slumber deep.
Its whispers
now,
a deafening,
howl.
Its voice,
a summons,
to rage,
madness,
destruction.
For a time
I was its slave,
but no more.
Not,
again.
The way out is through.
The way out is through.
Through a heart that bleeds oil.
Through a mind where terrors
tendrils, coil.
I have been here before.
I have been here before.
The way out is through.
The way out,
is through.
I am a slave,
no more.