What Bitterness The Shovel Left

A kingdom for the silence I crave,

A minute,

A fleeting minute,

How do it would be welcomed than to hear the constant hissing in my ear of her voice,

The one who fell before my axe,

I know she is not really there,

I know she rots I the garden,

Feeding the worms,

I see her eyes in the flowers every year as they bloom,

But her voice still rings true in my ears,

Whispering words of dread,

Promises that will one day come true,

Promises of what she’ll do to me,

After they are through with my flesh,

Who are they I always scream,

But she just laughs,

She just laughs…