I sit here growing bitter,
Trying to make this ember grow,
To turn my soul back into fire,
It's not good enough to live,
And my love is never enough for others,
Thier comfort I never bothered earning,
So how could I expect to be worth while,
My soul needs to push, not wither,
I need something to want,
A reason to consume me,
This is what has always gotten me by,
A whiff of a rose among the thorns,
But where now is that promise of salvation,
My soul is almost out,
I crave ressurection,
But my blood I'm not allowed