July 24, 2016

They'll Know

Here I sit pen in hand
To write what’s in my head
On this page the words I’ve put
Are written in blood now brown

What I write you will read
You’ll tell me, we think alike
But you’ll say, what I wrote
Are dreams of things unreal

You say my words spoke to you
And someday you’d like to write
Truly you, know not what torture is
For if I could, I’d stop this night

Can’t you hear those demons scream
“Write what you want about us there
Those mortals will never believe
What waits for them down below

Yet after death they’ll understand
What you wrote was subline
As they burn to ashes they’ll know
What is running through your mind”

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