Facing the battle, wells are my eyes,
I can't see anything but refraction.
My body stands yet my soul is far away,
Sadness in fetal position.
The war paint is on my face,
Marking me as part of their horde.
I belong to them now,
Conformity to their life.
Tsunamis rush in, washing us,
We can no longer stand against his might.
His hands are around me, pulling me under,
Reach out from the void.
My world fades, the colours drained from me,
Trapped in my own prison.
It is me, I am at fault
Sinned, miss the mark.
No more arrows in the sack,
No more will to fight him off,
Sleep now, sleep now,
Lulled in his satanic palms.
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Copyright Meghan Jacques (aka Version 5), 2001. All rights reserved.