In the deepest parts of my mind, where compassion and reason do not dwell. In the dearkest of my souls recess. Is where you will find, what i cannot tell-but now, I must confess. My heart it taunts as well as teases. My will; it haunts but also pleases. It's what causes my allure, and to my confidence holds the key. Seemingly there is no cure, for this thing that hides, deep within me. Tangling thought with emotion, it catches my good intent, before i even make it a notion. Because, the pain of others-is it's feast. That's the nature, of the beast. Begining to take its toll: now the end just seems inviting. I am bound to lose all control, because on the inside i am dying. JT

Ariete