It crawled it's way from bethleham

I crawled from the dust that hadn't settled.
but like a beast it came from behind,
and it pulled me back once again into;
a warzone which had stolen my life.

the sun hid from it, to afraid to show its face,
it was the second coming as it dragged its way,
to be born again in Bethleham.

the anti-christ, a past that should have died,
but monsters do not die.

they repear in the things i do and the things i say,
a beast, methaphorically speaking my past.
which springs to life, always lurking; waiting,
for a chance to destroy what i have built,
and to pull me back by its teeth; kicking and screaming,

to the sorry state that i once called my life.