What sweet torment plagues my heart,
And churns the waves within my soul?
How half a man ere thou depart,
On thy returning be made whole?
If all myself be with me now,
(What self remains that yet be mine);
Yet follow, whither goest thou
Being not mine own, but rather thine?
For all that I am belongs to thee
And freely given, reataining none.
Then in thine absence, what is me?
How exist i when thou art gone?
Could't be that thou hast but exchanged
Thy perfect self for this sparse lot
That selves and placements be rearranged
That I be thee here, when thou cannot.
If t'is so, then cheated thou hast been
By my weak unwitting callumny
To be this self of mine so mean
Whilst I exhult in being thee.
Abandon selves and unjust trade,
That we once two as one be made.
Tottespiel's Songs from Hell
- Ogregrim
- Dire Badger
- Posts: 163
- Joined: Sun Nov 21, 2004 7:12 pm
- Location: A Cave By The River that Runs to the Sea
- Contact:
Tottespiel's Songs from Hell
It has been my experience that, given the opportunity, people will in the end do what they truly desired to do in the beginning. Save time, let them, then they have only themselves to blame or you to thank.


- Ogregrim
- Dire Badger
- Posts: 163
- Joined: Sun Nov 21, 2004 7:12 pm
- Location: A Cave By The River that Runs to the Sea
- Contact:
A Hope in Hell
That I love her is enough for me,
She owes me nothing in return;
For who could love this travesty
This ruined face so scarred and burned?
I would follow where she leads,
A shadow at her beck and call,
But I have nothing that she needs
And what once I had I have lost all.
More than I merit she did give,
For just glimpse her proud fair face,
Is cause enough for me to live,
To bear my loss, and fall from grace.
All I was, was not enough,
And less than that I am today:
A monster well beyond all love,
And here in Hell I needs must stay.
Once I had hoped, and dared aspire,
To be the one to make her smile.
Now to my shame I must retire
And loving dwell in my exile.
But the memory of her tender touch,
That urged me on beyond despair
Is the joy this one hand of mine can clutch,
With lips that whisper, "Amyier".
She owes me nothing in return;
For who could love this travesty
This ruined face so scarred and burned?
I would follow where she leads,
A shadow at her beck and call,
But I have nothing that she needs
And what once I had I have lost all.
More than I merit she did give,
For just glimpse her proud fair face,
Is cause enough for me to live,
To bear my loss, and fall from grace.
All I was, was not enough,
And less than that I am today:
A monster well beyond all love,
And here in Hell I needs must stay.
Once I had hoped, and dared aspire,
To be the one to make her smile.
Now to my shame I must retire
And loving dwell in my exile.
But the memory of her tender touch,
That urged me on beyond despair
Is the joy this one hand of mine can clutch,
With lips that whisper, "Amyier".
It has been my experience that, given the opportunity, people will in the end do what they truly desired to do in the beginning. Save time, let them, then they have only themselves to blame or you to thank.

