its is so dark here
in my dungeon black
were no one can find
my peace of mind ~
and words can not
convey the hell
that I'm in~
i sing not of the living
or of the enslaved dammed
but of the spilled blood of the many
that soaks into the ground
and runs through the rock
and down though the lakes
were blood turns clear
and only the unknowing blind drink~
and i would
give all to him
he who needs not of me
but give only warning
of what could be~
and yet i would stand unclothed
and necked at his feet~
and can you not feel the blade
it presses at our very throats
slicing at our soft soul
cheating our new born skins'~
and need to be loved
and born again~
Verlecia fields
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/cheated-soul-of-madness/
