Matters of Sanity and Conscience

Black, red, black, red,
The sundered lash does strike,
Impaled on death cold wall,
Victim to the heartless Shrike,
Charybdis enfold me,
Drown me in salt stained hell,
For my torn ears listen,
As my head nods to Charons bell.

Drawn by lamb was I,
Wolf snared in a velvet trap,
Bound tight was I,
A petrified tree without sap.
The dark is silent,
Sibilant in its wanton ways,
to taunt the sense,
The will like bamboo in typhoon sways.

Am I fool to think,
that my soul still lies unmarked?
do I dream you think,
that untouched my heart lies parked,
In a garage white,
With walls of innocence made?
Should I my friend,
Have my kindness finally laid?

Am I a tool you think,
Of powers I cannot think to stop?
Do my efforts sink,
Under a blackened evergrowing crop?
Am I an Angel now,
Doomed to an everlasting Purgatory?
Or should I tear up my book,
Kick back ,ride and start another Story?

Shall I let it free?
Shall I became what I fear?
For sanities sake,
Should I, my conscience heavily sear?
In inhuman bondage,
And needles of white hot pain,
Or still fight the fight,
To be dragged down and screaming
as I lose all that is sane?

Tell me heart,
Tell me true,
Is there a monster in me?
Or do I see it in you?