The Voice Of Pain

You are the entrepreneur of a truth you have not yet found. An oracle, storyteller, philosopher, a guiding light sought by thousands, you can hear me now. I demand that you hear me now.
You call from the mountains. Many heed your cry, many sing your song, your voice is pure and your words are enchanting. Your voice is like the Autumn breeze.
You have volume and the masses come to you. Your body is desired, your coffer growing ever fatter, you live well from the willing gold flung at you, to the foot of your alter.
But my spell is more potent, entwined throughout you, whispered to you softly and carried on the gentle currents. There are none who see me nor feels me but for the slight chill that slivers amidst your warm radiance.
I am reviled, a secret deep within, far from the eyes of others, I am your shame, I am the ache in your heart like an ember resting deep in it's deepest recess and glowing forever.
Your melodies and seductive lyrics are spiked with my scent, though you hate me, it is I who brings you capital, I who am your love, your will, your desire, your hunger, your success, your sweetness, I gave them to you.
I am the spring from which you flow. The ice on the mountain peaks from which your fine tunes shower down.
You deny me, but I am patient, for one day you will hunt for me, need me, desire me, hunger for my flesh, before me there were no things but those which are eternal, and before you were, I waited for you. Idle in the sky and fertilizing your earth, I waited for my perfect host.
You voice will mute. Your masses will lovingly depart. You will be alone with me. Have naught but me.
I will still be here, secreting my venom through you long after there is nothing else left, my whisper will penetrate you, just as it always has.
Just as it always shall.