A Cold Place

 
This is a cold place
And I sleep inside my wound…
There is a devil in my mind,
A corpse that gnaws on my bones,
And the blood of my madness
Floods the sting of my tears.
There is no embrace
For the silence of the entombed.
And now the devil has dined
Returning to the satellite thrones
In the valley obscured by the sadness
Of my lonesome years.

As I would have felt you carry me,
I now will watch you bury me…
As I would have felt you protect me,
I only feel the demon infect me.
Would you protect me from my heart?
Will you protect me from my soul
And the mind I cannot control?
My heartbeat is no longer real,
With my sign and seal
Held within your hands,
As no-one else understands—
Would you protect me from my heart?

As my final hour passes,
I have burned, and am as ashes.
My tears sting, my souls is sore,
I shall rise no more—
God! Show me you do not hate me.
Make but one prayer, set free
Come true as I implore You.
Will there be a kiss beyond the veil
Of the weariness that is my tale?
Wilt thou, in thy worthy blood
Make me feel that I am loved?
Or wilt thou watch me die
And forbid me passage to the sky?

© 2021 Marten Hoyle