Macabre Precinct

Willingly I wander, distant to the naked eye My eyebrows will furrow, and teetering I will Whistles I cannot play, with a lump in my throat full of dye It is not wanting enjoyment, instead I feel the need to kill-it. I am ashamed, though I have done no wrong My blood-can feel it curdle-along.

It has seemed you beguiled me O,to think- I will quiver. Lest we be free Engrave it in silver. Whore, Slut Derive of that what you must.

Yet calm me with our vague similarities  Was it intended, our peculiarities?

I don’t cry anymore. My legs are becoming sore.

Why should I call him Dad, When he brought me into such a bad

Life. It's a skill. I hear mine weakening, becoming ill.

They don’t get it, how could they ever? Have you ever heard of a man so clever?

He’s a monster, oh? “He’s your father, so?”

The stripes drip and froth. In agony tears dwell. I resist the burn which thrives within me In faith, I will dwell in the black forest.

Your words do nothing. It will not, cannot shatter the foundation. I scream from the rubble of Bath My wails cannot, will not swell Get it off, wipe clean this stain Help man fill the drain; Shatter, leave the cloth!

My stripes are my agony.

You do not, you want not my cloth. We are helpless in this well, Men come to find us, drink our broth: In blood, and skin, our stripes grow thin.

We lie in filth Brought to this home, we resent birth.

Save me, oh! You, Wicked Earth.