No Martyr’s Cage

Constrained
I find no solace here
My finite quest lies paralysed
Sequestering dreams internally
Indemnify my will to die
Closed iron bars adorn my home
A palisade?
A palindrome?
The red regalia's savage chafe
Has sealed this bastard's fate

An annuloid penitentiary
In which humanity suffers brutality
An aristocracy of inconsistency
Whose hierarchy exalts monotony
But your apology is sheer hypocrisy
A masquerade with no integrity

Forever drowning slowly in a sea of deathly dreams
A caustic embrocation to the mental wounds of fear
(Is this fantasy?) Is this fantasy?
(Or insanity?) Or insanity?

Mindless fascination with the cracks which rise and fall
Constant masturbation to the pictures on my wall
An epitaph to frustration
Nightmare, base disorientation
A hopeless quest
I cannot rest
A shackled man
Withheld, oppressed

Forever drowning slowly in a sea of deathly dreams
A caustic embrocation to the mental wounds of fear
(Is this fantasy?) Is this fantasy?
(Or insanity?) Or insanity?
(Is this fantasy?) Is this fantasy?
(Or insanity?) Or insanity?

Pallor stains my haggard face, I strain and struggle to remain a member of the human race
Smash, crash, slap, and crack
Stretched and wrenched upon the rack
Whipping, dripping, stripping slices cruelly from an aching back
Piece by piece, torn apart
But still they cannot break my heart
Nor my spirit's deep elation
This butchery, a bloody proof for those who cannot hear the truth
Should not be loosed on any nation