Torture Of Repetition Poem by Ace Of Black Hearts

I'm not one to accept a gift.
Your offer is just to good to be true.
In terms written that I have yet to understand.
The good lord has a list of names.
In heaven as my stage.
A marches final count down.
Surrounded by the warmth of the flame.
Let me follow the rocky path of a guided light.
A decision has to be made.
And I'm so afraid.
What if it is not right.
Hesitation is my abrasion.
And it has skinned my knees raw.
The crow encircles my frozen body speaking in his caws.
He's waiting for me to make my move.
The stench of death must hover in this stale air.
I'm telling you that won't be me.
No it won't be.
Not by choice.
I will never surrender.
I can not be chained to a mountain so a vulture can continuous eat my soul bit by bit just so it can grow back again.
I will not live in that sort of torture of repetition.