Morning has broken,
The sky is lit ablaze with sun golden water,
I, myself, am left to wonder:
Why did she partake in my slaughter?

Not death of body or of mind,
But death of feeling and what’s inside

This bed offers me no contentment,
Only sheer hatred and resentment

For a love lost not solely by me,
Rather misplaced through our history,
Of doubtful triumphs and unfounded
Winnings, to decadent insults and
Conceited beginnings

A love lost; a tale of sorrow and woe, becomes
The spark that a Phoenix needs to grow, to
Rise from the ashes of our broken hearts,
To extend its fiery breath to all other parts,
We live again! We live again! The cry of my soul
Life must go on, so give Pain her toll.