Scratches

As i sit in this worn-out chair

the dreadful thoughts i dare not bear

scratch marks on this chair of wood

the person once sat there, so misunderstood

tortured, beaten for the answers

to questions not even time can tell

imagination running wild

was it a man, was it a child?

I can't control my emotions

stemming from this dark devotion

I am the man

the tortured soul

I am the child

the helpless child

I AM DEATH

Reviews

[Carly Ithilhin]

Appeals to the soul :)