Do not mistake my calm demeanor
for calmness of mind
My body has chosen to turn a blind eye
To the torments I feel on the inside.
My torture chamber consisted not
Of whips, chains and Lords.
But comprised instead of His beautiful words,
Which now behave as swords.
Scaled and sliced ten times over
Enough to last a lifetime
Paused a while to only start over
In cold blood from morning to nigh.
There’s no redemption from this hell created
Hell hounds never leave my side
There is no rest or respite for the wicked
When they make a deal by the river Styx.
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