by Mitchell Fitzgerald

Created on: May 22, 2009

Reign For Never

Your voice is haunting,

Through the halls,

Ringing wind chimes,

Like frightened calls.

Your words are stinging

Ink in my head.

Gripping my tight throat,

For what I've said.

Your eyes are black ice,

Glazed over like mirrors.

Cleaving into my soul,

And reflecting my fears.

Your fingers are damned knives,

Holding me to the wall.

Without touching me,

Though I never fall.

Do you love me, Master?

Or am I your slave?

Do you care for me, Master?

For it is I who will dig your grave.

One day you will die,

And I will survey with a smirk.

I will drag you to hell,

And rid myself of your work.

Again you will never rule,

Again you will never reign.

No striking fear to my heart,

And not a drop of pain.

Your family has left you,

They've not appeared at your service.

Your funeral was empty,

Except for I, your servant.

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