This shadow, though, and this destructiveness,
and the fire burning dark on my soul
came not just from me, not all my doing.
Others with perfected seductiveness
found me easy prey, naive like the foal
newly borne, shaky legs, vision skewing.

They, with their half-truths and their total lies,
perverting, twisting the truth to suit them.
"I love you"s borne of alcohol or lust.
Loving demeanor, their perfect disguise
catches me off-guard, flower's fragile stem.
All done so they can get off on the rush.

The shadow, though, that truly causes fear.
It makes me want to hurt someone as much,
if not indeed more, than I have been harmed.
"That is not me." The shadow does not hear
or care. Trying to get my hate to clutch,
to embrace the shadow, be viciously armed.

Still, I refuse the shadow, I resist
the temptation, the evilest of paths.
Weakening, though, starting to get worn down
wanting to quit, give over to the fist,
wondering how much longer I can last
before the shadow will become my gown.

A light, warming, making me want to trust, 
has appeared, driving the shadow away.
Tentatively I reach out, fearing hate
or his indifference or, worse, his disgust.
"I am here for you, the shadow to slay
but you have to do it, so I will wait."

With your trust, with your love, backing my heart
the shadow I finally pacified.
I fled to your arms, a rush of desire.
You were gone though, instead the poisoned dart.
Your love for me not enough, your love died
Shadow rushed in, filling me with dark fire.

or

With your trust, with your love, backing my heart
the shadow I finally pacified.
I fled to your arms, a rush of desire.
You waited for me, you did not depart.
It seems your love is true, will never die.
Now we burn together, the brightest fire.