I see fire flaming with a scorch of scarlet red,
Unlike no other flames that conjures the horrid dread.
A burning for so long that I wish I had control,
Of eternal dreams and madness forever left untold.
These chains that cackles in dungeons of abyss,
The stench of rusted metal to hold the caress,
Now forged within me, beneath my skin so sore,
A memory of a lonely child, bathed in gore.
The lonely child in me, that remained in a memory,
Wrote down death in the heart of a diary,
Nor did she wish to remember, nor could she ever forget,
How the mistake of her mother made her regret.