Tithes of Darkness


I speak of it often

Writing volumes on the subject

A feeling that defies intellect

I speak of misery of the soul

I wax poetically of the toll

The wages paid in sin

Trying to escape it’s madness

The tragic cycle of its sorrow

That grips my every tomorrow

I speak of it all

Of the highs and the inevitable fall


Yet rarely do I speak of the lights that sustain me

The things that allow me to survive to be

I survive off love and hate

Hope and apathy

I choose my sustenance well

And there I dwell

Till I have had my fill

And regained my will


The love of those I care for

The hate that renews me

The hope of a better day

And the apathy to step away

I exist in a confused harmony of opposing forces

A perfect storm in human form

Aware of the choices

Yet careless of the consequence

For a slave to my nature I am

And whether I dance

With Angels or Devils

I am to be among the Damn


Still the choice was mine

And in the voice of time

I speak my truths and listen to the folly


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