The echoes of my past,
Ring in my ears like a bell,
My past does haunt me so,
And makes my waking life a hell,
Forgive me for my foolish ways,
When I still dwelt in life,
I suppose that it is punishment enough,
Chained to the wall by strife,
No blood to feed my heart or soul,
No spirits to feed off of either,
Not even the slightest bite of flesh,
Will be my pains reliever,
The sun shines here like a burning soul,
But one on which I cannot feed,
There is no sustainence here,
Nothing here I need |
