Twisting Knives

Can't fight the discipline,
can't best the rage.
All I taste is sin,
and the rust of my cage.
Shards of what was glisten,
in the darkness around me.
But then I remember how you wouldn't listen,
and how you refused to see.

The hate I let out rattles the bars,
and the frayed steel creates yet more scars.
and all that I feel is pain.
all that I am. Is pain.