it's not cuz I'm down,
to the ground,
or maced to my bones
it's the tune of the drill
in
the back of my skull
that doesn't ever let me down
it's when I'm in you, that the mistakes
are few
but the tingle of a fire, caste aside
by the grip of greed and desire
it ain't enough to keep my soul
from the jaws of a psychotic liar
If we scream to redeam all the
thoughts run astray, and put
bolts through the skin of every
diabolical demon, then the delete
we do defeat comes to the burned
each and every waking day
to deny the life of what we cry
will only let prison of what we suffer to hold inside.
©munch77
D