Finders weepers

The wilderness of emotion and as wild as they might be.
In the lee of jagged anger catch the echo of my plea.
The brow of a restless giant breaks sweat on torments back.
And the ferry man of the river Styx counts his toll exact.

Go dye.-
My depression blue.
Go dye.-
This anger red.

Go die, is what I say to him as the monster holds my head.

The hunger twists my wicked soul, the hunger knows my name. The fiend stalks prey within my brain and it hungers for my pain.
The spoils churn, the acid burns and the poison taints my blood. In a torrid rain these thoughts profane all get stuck in the mud.

Go cry.-
A mournful dirge.
Go cry.-
A shattered tear.

Scream out a dream that remains unseen and name it for this fear.