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Martyr

de Benighted

The worlds close, cold and threatening
They left me no way out, no door anywhere
Just these big white walls and their majesty
Dripping with anger and hostility
They rise in the rigidity of the accuser
The steams of your stench hidden behind

Your emanations contaminate my senses
And enjoy what remains of my damaged soul
Suspended over the fascinating space under my feet
Waiting for the time I fall

My throat hurts as I scream with all my guts but no sound goes out
I feel my veins beat on my temples and their rhythm resounds in my head
The spotless white of the walls blinds me
And crosses my eyelids

Time has come to see the end
Time has come to tame the whispers beyond the walls

The question's why the consolation
The question's why divine redemption
My acts cannot be forgiven
Forgotten with neuroleptics absolution

These relentless images in my head
Of a magnificent and so familiar red
This silence I like rocks my grief in these last years
No word, no shout, just the silence
I'd like to meet the child I was, tell him "I'm sorry for your loss"

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