The tears of past dungeons,

Still echo in my head,

The screams, the sobs, my own desperation.

They can’t hurt you anymore, you say,

I broke you out of there,

But you don’t see at all.

You can’t see the blood on my hands,

Can’t feel the walls closing in,

Can’t hear the despairing shrieks of pain.

I’m trapped, in the cold that seeps in,

In the bars that still pin me in my mind,

I’m still locked up.

I’m still in that prison.

Perhaps not the same one,

But nonetheless I weep.

It’s a matter of time,

Before I’m taken away again.

It might be a relief.

At least I might know,

That the broken souls that haunt me,

Are more than an illusion.

To feel the bright realness of it all,

Instead of ghosts, being dragged off,

To the sound of knives and sacrifice.

I have lost it.

Take me away.

Make me beg for mercy.

Anything other than this,

This numb resignation,

Rid me of it.

In any way you can,

Make me feel the tears of past dungeons,

Falling down my face.