The Unalone Chapter I: The Bottom

Always looking normal from the outside
Daylight covers over the reality inside,
It is Inside the sly partner resides
Directing all thoughts and being the guide.

His eyes are murky: the windows of his soul.
He was only a boy when he gave up control,
Amidst the protection and beautiful patrol,
He died a little, and the night took a hold.

He makes decisions without a conscious thought
Thinking for himself is all for nought
He awakes to find himself dismayed and distraught
With a torn conscience and a mind to rot.

The beast from within, it resides under his skin;
At his finger tips seething through his grip
The blood rushing from the head to his hips,
He kisses the night with the palest of lips.

He is only a vessel, and his body is nothing
His soul is a meal for one more cunning
He cannot escape; there is no point in running
So he sits, with a physique so stunning,

It is too tough to be chiseled out of stone;
Not from training, but from rage and groans.
Although by himself, he is Unalone;
There is a horde sitting at his heart's throne,

And together, they won't leave him alone.