SETTLING:

The lost ones are all slaves to you,
they fight but do not win.

Disguised, you wear a blackish hew,
And ever draw them in.

Afraid, the lost ones carry on
With all your shallow schemes,

And without hope for morning's dawn,
Lose sight of all their dreams.

Your message, laced with lies and hate,
Bids them to succumb,

To empty lives, so second-rate,
And stoic hearts so numb.

But even though you seem to be
The strongest force at hand,

There comes a man to rescue me
And on his grace I stand.

Though undeserved, the chains I bore,
Again I'll never see.

A slave to you I am no more
Forever I am free.