He's back, he's back, my torment is back.
That little grey pain in the small of my back:
his hollowness haunts me,
he teases and taunts me,
he jerks me around
as I feign he still wants me.
It stresses me maybe to think that my baby's
not anything near what I think that he may be.
But rather illusion
or worse, a delusion,
a manic concoction of
I gave him my power? I'm lost when he's near me?
The fires within me don't comfort, but sear me?
Why burn from this pain
with no purpose or gain
as I lose my direction
to find I'm insane...
But all is not lost yet, I tell myself, trying:
Not fawning nor failing, nor sitting here crying.
'Tis best that I greet it
this game that he's meted,
though odds seem against me,
I still may complete it!
Those future men within whom I shall be
Will aid me in this too, for they can see:
And I shall learn what they shall have me know
Should I but trust, then truly I shall grow...