Year after year,
More perishes my purity,
More I mutilate my maturity,
More I make myself mere misery.

Once and again, I’ll give gore for glory,
Think and talk like life’s a tedious task,
But why must I? is what I always ask.

Why must I,
Equate exhaustion and ecstasy,
Isolation and intelligence,
Work with worries,
Success and solitude and I’m sorry?

Someone tell,
Is my time only and truly to triumph?
And does declining demand dying?
Does loving lead to lying,
And rising to wrecking what’s right?

Must there be ashes to make light?

Ah, I accept affliction alone!
It’s a painful passion that possesses me,
Yet, forever, I favour not flee.
But rest to relish—
This monster’s haunting hiss.

It seems I’ve been bitten by a beast—
And the anguish is electrifying!
It seems I’ve been captured by ambition—
And the pain is so gratifying.