A rusty spear locked into my chest,
The bloody chains across my throat,
The hungry snakes in my bed,
The water full of heads that float.
The darkness so heavy I can hardly breathe,
Air so cold, I could almost freeze,
There is no sky in this horrid place,
There is no wind, not a single breeze.
The thorns of pain cutting my back,
A manipulative ghost says good bye,
The hungry wolves are all at bay,
The willow is the place where I may die.
And the only person who can save me,
Is my own worst enemy,
But my pride is too high to risk,
And I will always have my fist.
by: Charlene Longwell