Blood Torture Asylum Or Chaos Sanctuary Poem by Thomas Brillowski

I wake up by day,
But the sky is darkish.
A cryptical place.
By a malignant aura,
I am surrounded,
My view darkens.

Can you hear that?
The forest whispers my name.
This voice is choking my blood.
I peer out the window,
Far away the forest
No one out there.

Crows shouting the eternity of torment.
I turn to the door.
It opens, but no one behind there.
Suddenly the air disappears.
A cold-looking,
And a grievous hand on my shoulder.

I feel the nearness of death.
Suddenly I see a lonely widow.
A beautiful rose in her blood-stained hands,
But totally dark is she.
She pierces my heart.
I freeze with her blood-shot eyes.

It shatters my soul.
Helplessly hoping spans my sadness,
That I feel.
No way out.
She takes my mind in chains.
Desperate blood flowing from my eyes.

She laughs,
She enjoys it to see,
My fear, my pain.
She is the one who holds my life in her hands
In this cage of the psychotic nightmare.
This widow, a personification

Of cruelty and the beast,
Unleashes the doom.
Here, I will still be with her,
In reign of death.
This is my new penitentiary,
The chaos sanctuary.