Wicked

Something from the,

Inside has taken hold.

It's heart is black,

So my blood runs cold.

It's eyes glow crimson,

And I cannot see.

It's hand-crafted my flaws,

Intentionally.

This thing breathes flames,

So my words now burn.

This thing makes sure,

My assaults are returned.

Whatever it is,

It wants to break free.

It says it's my friend,

But it's strangling me.

Something from the,

Inside has taken hold.

And this thing will be,

With me until I grow old.