Liar, liar, heart on fire,
Blood to burn and scorch the wire,
Was your choice, to die or live,
And now, I choose, I shan't forgive.
I sit, cross legged, on the chair,
A blade, a-running through my hair,
My neck, slashed, taught, life, still connected,
Morte, morte, resurrected.
Necro, negro, black en black,
A cobra coiled round my back,
My fingers, tight upon the bone,
Laced, harsh, with gem and carved of stone.
You called the shots, the shots rang out,
Pledge, bleed your life, of that, no doubt,
You called the word, the word was free,
To you, perhaps, but not to me.
And, so, I sit, upon this chair,
My wrist, bound tight, within the snare,
A whip of hades, shade of black,
Turn spark from ash, shoot up your back.
A final word and it is done,
It's my choice now and I have won,
Forgiveness shows not 'pon eye,
Upon this chair, I utter "die."
I watch you writhe, I flick my wrist,
I'm tired of this daemon's gist,
Upon my chair, I watch your fall,
Can't be forgiveness for them all.
Want to join the conversation? Sign in to leave a comment.