The Goyle Poem by Mr. Handsome

In the shadows stands the Goyle mocking,
With its fiendish eyes my every move stalking.
The sound of its discourse clouding my reasoning.
I'm penetrated by fear, as I feel my spirit weakening.

I need more than this armor I put on every day,
For it's inside of it I die as within I decay.
I bend my knees and to the heavens address my plea,
Waiting on the Lord from this struggle to extricate me.

It breaks out the whip, it's intentions made clear;
To stripme of strength and all hope commandeer.
How long must I resist before my help arrives,
And this oppressive torment be removed from our lives?

Is my calling to leave my spirit grotesque as it is torn?
For it seem as if to suffer was the purpose to which I was born.
I carry on forward for there is a comfort in my suffering,
Knowing that each lash brings me closer to my King.

Tormentor do what it is you have been sent to accomplish,
And tho at the moment I am drowning in anguish,
My Father has heard my call and will my heart not forsake,
He's coming down and not much longer will He take.