Dreamless sleep serves as my fortress,

The bittersweet taste of valium, my shield,

Meloncholy dischords take the place of melodies,

Just as every painful memory is scorched in defence

Of you.

Yet your dreaded visage does pass my mind.

The thought of your auburn hair does tickle my hand.

Gruesome delights of my freedom die a brutal death

As I am reminded of my eternal, undying servitude

Of you.

What purpose is served by this agonizing misery?

What demon splurges on the carcass of my heart?

What insidious plan lays hidden in those emerald eyes

Whose gaze would make our finest lord the lowest slave

Of you.

The time of tranquility is longer past than Zeus.

My only peace now found in certain loss,

My only stability in the comfort of defeat,

My every dream quashed in the severance

Of you.

Gods may scoff at mere mortal suffering,

But even Hades cannot bear my pain.

Atlas knows less ache; hell burns less the flesh

Than the simple act of loving all that is

Of you.

Shall my tears pour oceans for galleons to sail

Or my throat scream sorrow for hearts to break?

Perhaps still my loss does turn me into stone,

A monument to the supremacy over my life

Of you.

What will you do with this worshipper, Oh Goddess?

Who kneels in your temple, humbled and beseeching.

Will you cast him out and laugh as he stumbles?

Or will you see his devotion, his unbreakable fidelity

Of you?

How I wish the question had not been answered.

How I want with every wholesome part of my soul

That I had never had the immense pleasure

Or disemboweling agony in even knowing

Of you.