As I sit trapped inside the prison’s room,

I rage against the tyrant’s rule, too cruel,

And cry on sheets unsoft, my thoughts on tombs.

And hopes are crushed as peers think me a fool.

The rage and cries, the fire and water, drive

Away my reason, Hand of Devils grasp’ng

My shoulder, whisp’ring hate to grow and hive

The urge to end that which destroys whilst gasp’ng.

If ever cold did storm my heart, our love

Did duel with it, and temper’s flare does fade

As I remind myself of You above.

I fear no sleep, or going where I’m laid.

The bliss from pain was found so deep within,

So that my heart, my soul, my will could win.

Original Image

*Note* : If you like my poems, look forward to the upcoming poetry collection I’ve compiled: Flames from the Black! More information is coming soon, so stay tuned!


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