The black abhorrence flows within me
And I become as shadowed
as the barriers of my confinement
The same dreaded color of the walls,
that I rage and scream against inside of me
And the abandoned rocking chair
moans its mournful tune unmercifully in my head: my place of sanctuary
Sometimes my blood will flow cleansed, a frothy, white purity
humming inside of me; bleaching my thoughts
granting me ease for only a moment
Until the overseer decides I am devoid of a struggle
but to poison my wine and force me to drink,
will outwit him in ways he is oblivious.
I will go down in silence, loyal to my solitude
And with me will come, the curse I damn to hell