The nature of the beast yet the passion in the slow burn:**

Love is like a beast; ferocious and wild. We are powerless against it, we can't control love just like we can't control a beast wanting to be untamed.

But love is also insidious in the way it hurts. It burns you slowly and passionately and because of this we bleed from deeper wounds. The careful art of pain that love expresses is a passion that is almost beautiful.

If I were to believe in love, I'd lose myself to the pain of not having it.
If I were to believe in my future, I'd die trying to make it hopelessly better.
If I were to believe in good, I'd cry while committing to the wrong-doings.

This leaves me no choice but to believe in the devil.

I loved you once and twice
all for the devil’s asking price
a tender torture longed-for
the graved regards, cold war

Blood, bones and scales
with you and your sneath
Sail me to death
and tell them my tales

There are limits; and I have them.
People become different sapiens
against the wall and under duress.
You've pushed me, releasing the demons oppressed.

In me you've bred monsters.
So hateful and am hating you.
Let it bedevil you how my malice grew.

What is your plea? What is your plea?
You've killed me with the care you never gave.
The old me now rested on blood-layered grave.

In me you've bred monsters.
I loved you too hard
and now i'm turning monsters.