Where all my desires and fears
Collide, making them loudly ring
A desert has far more sustenance
With a character to make a stand
All I have at hand are bitter tears
And a funeral song to sing
But I've practiced abstinence
Knowing it will serve me well
In this, my self-made Hell
I am a stain, a pestilence
Perhaps even a plague
And the world is better off
By my absence
