A hundred strings tug at my heart,
Urges uncollected, uncounted, unconfined,
Of the dozens that push and that pull,
There is one stronger than the others,
It comes calling regularly,
And it is dark,
It has been a master of me before,
Relapsed, returned,
It whispers doubt into my veins,
It wants its throne back,
Coursing through my bloodstream,
It is vital,
It needs a vessel,
This urge is parasitic,
It commands me to bow,
Demands that I respect its presence,
It defines my heart and my mind as a place of reverence,
And this urge,
Is my lord,
It has romanticized me before,
Saintly sold me,
Loved me when no one else would,
But the choice is harder now that I have love surrounding me,
Things are different now that this imaginary lover, this godly love is not all that I have,
This urge,
Always has promised sweet freedom,
And that promise was irresistible in years past,
But times change and needs shift,
I am not the same,
I will not be consumed,
These days, healthy control is all I want,
This sweet loneliness,
This urge,
This urgent need,
This parasite I crave,
Will not be my masochistic lord again,
I will live,
I will love,
I will resist,
I will step into the waiting world,
And I Will Live.
