Conversations

I am walking through hell tonight 
almost every night 
maybe it's destined to be that way 
blood-tears streaming my face 
laying here with a crimson stained shirt
I think I am doing metaphors I really can't be sure 
because I have poison in my veins 
and the Devil in my head 
kneel down and take my hand 
"you aren't alone", the He says
in a clipped British accent
      (one of life's mysteries)

I remember his words
"I pray your life becomes living hell"
made my peace with him 
gave more than I took
all I had
more than I could
till nothing was my legacy

makes me wonder 
how many a curse 
did I leave in my wake 
I might not be finished 
paying the price 

I know what it means when you say
"I don't have much left"
down on my knees through the pain 
I'll ask the Devil;
the stain on my conscience 
whatever my suffering 
don't let it fall on you
I'll hold his hand 
for sinners 
have the Devil for a friend. 

©Lost