The black of my heart
the plaque of my soul
how can I a mear mortal
control these feelings

Being ripped from the
ones who have not even
been know long enough
yet have become
dear to one's heart

How are they to know
of the pain of my stomach
the illness of my mind

How can I who can not
even tell my feelings
have a say in what
goes on behind my eyes

Living with such a guilt
that I think not wrong
but being blinded by
my feelings of the furture
and my pains of past

How shall I
a meer weakling
by sight of others
control fate to render
happiness even when
I myself have set
the trap and have
walked into it

Not knowing the power
of love but knowing
the depth of hate
I have found that set
between three, I
can not even choose
a better between two.
I know in my heart
that I must choose
and forget others
or have strife for my life

Not even a wound
of seriousness could
hurt as much as
being torn from one
and yet I have been
torn from three

So what shall my
enemy do to torture
Nothing could hurt more
than the persecution
of one of friendship
but should I not have
help from abouve

I say, let no enemy
touch those dear
but face me so that
my anger may slay them
and so be a victor
for not me but those dear

I would sell my life dearly
yet they know not of
my devotion to them

But of one that turneth
their head from on high
then let them be
dismissed from my heart
and blackened
out of my soul