Category : Poems

Sub Category : N/A

Paranoia crawls along my vessels,
I listen and wait for the executioner's lullaby, My breathing is hitched and painful,
These mental wounds I cannot hide,
I'm not sorry for my sins,
God knows I don't believe,
I'm sorry for the way it ends,
Because I'm not the man they need.
The answer to the story,
Of murder, lust and greed,
Can be found written on the walls,
But I'll die before they read.
They tell me that I killed a man,
So I guess I'll die for him,
But if I didn't slaughter the children,
Will hell still let me in?