Bed of Knives

I grab your hand and...bleed!

Selfish combat I endured,

Evil and obliteration it feeds!

Sliced of a chance to be pured.

My hands are swollen from scars,

Entwining my fingers with demise.

I stand behind these rusty bars,

Waiting for a cruel suprise.

Shuddering so constantly mistaking

Pain igniting through every move,

Feeling like much suffocating,

Withered soul needeing to removed,

So here I am, alone,

Needing to be alive and freed,

Iniquity is the only trait shown,

And all I can do is bleed.

My head taunted with thoughts,

Of escaping this bloody captivation,

Demon eyes gaze at me, I am distraught,

Stripped of salvation.

I return to my only home,

One last chance to survive,

Redness seeps like it's on dome.

Opening my eyes...awakening in a bed of knives!

May 10/03