Must you have my whole mind?

Is part of it not enough for you?

Must you have my dreams? 

I have no control of that which is gone to you.

Must you fight for every inch that is still me?

When will you decide it is enough?

When I become weak from fighting?

When I cry out in anger from defeat?

When I curse your name and stomp the ground?

When those unfamialr liquids pour from my eyes?

No?

You must have them all at the same time.

I am no longer as weak, my king has fed me.

I am no longer angry from my lose for I have gained ground.

I will not curse you, but swear I will, for I swear you will not have my whole self.

Those liquids, those tears. Not so unfamiliar.

They visit me frequently as if a good friend.

And now welcomed. 

Now from you oh hell. 

I will take my mind back.

You will not control my conciousness.

Now from you oh hell.

I will have back my dreams.

You will not have me in fear of closing my eyes.

Now to you oh hell.

Enjoy defeat, as I learned to do so many times.