I am the eye of the storm; the glint of the blade
The destroyer of every self-promise you made.
Your hell is lined with mirrors; that’s where you’ll see me
The crippling admission that you yourself are key.
For I feel alive in fire; the burn of isolation
The sickening awareness that I am your creation.
My hands around your lungs; your mind my weary captor
The never ending story, stuck in this black-hole chapter.
And with a beating heart, you storm my tarnished stronghold
The union of warm blood, and battles yet untold.