A Slave's Chant

The chill of Winter and memories of a fire

Icy hearts and burning passion

A soul’s willingness to be destroyed

Consumed by an eager antagonist

Who am I if I am not you?

If your face were not my reflection?

Lost would I be within myself

Caught within the mire of identity

That cruel thing that eludes me

Drowns me in a sea self pity

Gasping for air I allow you to save me

Take me, make me, break me

Do as you will

I have no will of my own

 

Reviews

[Arthur Crow]

I was entranced by the flow of your succulent melancholy bleeding down and across the screen,
Very well crafted!