Writing lights the path of ever darkness

A darkness that consumes all emotions

Feeling has ceased, sight has ceased, taste has ceased

Senses taken over by the evil

A beast that knows absolute no loving

Its heart froze over many years ago

But of all the emotions it takes

Writing can still make feelings again

A feeling that is there, but not really

It is dull like the setting evening sun

Slightly comforting and somewhat warming

Writing is like Clarent from King Arthur

It helps to destroy my growing darkness

But it consumes with a terrible greed

Greed which begs for more and more and more pain

The pain that wants to be taken further

To another level to light the dark

Begging to help you, but it does not help

Only the light of writing soothes the beast

It lasts but for a short while, enjoy.