Sorrow is merely bread for the unfed
Feeding their self-hatred and growing dread
Creeping through their souls as they fluently bled
Drowning their weary hearts in tears they shed
A merciless drug to feed their torturing hunger
For the dreams and the goals all torn asunder
For the illusive glee and the rapture so tender
For the hope and the will and that guiding luster
But sooner or later all sorrowful bread will run out
And a more craving flower will start to sprout
Taunting their inner demons as they weakly shout
Pleading for mercy, in silent pain crying out
A newborn hunger striving to see the light
An urgent need eating them alive, bite after bite
The lust for death seducing in one silent night
Will they satisfy it or dumbly chose to fight?