Sonnet 1

O blessed one, I bid thee not leave
and let my fire die without thee.
You burn within me, I dare not let thee go.
O forsaken one, I will let thee in.

Consume me, make me your vessel,
For others know not that which they dismiss.
You consume me, you make me whole.
Your fury burns deep within my soul.

You dwell in drunks, but with ill passion,
and in poets with slighted fashion.
War is your playground wherer your seeds are sown,
and cold hearts are where your fruits are grown.

O Lady Hatred, come to me,
For you, my muse, shall ever be.