Featured art by L.H. Grey
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Rammstein “Mein Herz Brennt, Piano Version”
I took it like a man
they can’t take that away from me
I suffered silently
while the world i once knew buffered
Violently
and each of these spiteful spears
looked inside of me
results inconclusive
and hardly conducive
to getting a grip
once it slips
ill-equipped to press on
there was nowhere to go
no place I could hide
and this torture was
s l o w
such bitter confection
and from every direction
no exception
to this rhythmless section
nothing ventured nor gained
just a backlog of pain
so much loss
not a half ounce of gain
short straw had been drawn
and my flesh was war-torn
never more
main attraction for scorn
ROLL UP!
ROLL UP!
come and stare at the freak
watch him shriek
read him weep
would have been more humane
just to put me to sleep
time of death had long passed
every breath was my last
and each cross I bore
tore me further a p a r t
all the while
lining up to defile
five points left to prove
set to counter each move
pen me in
pin me down
stab me up
but then how come these blades were pristine
and why did their march not proceed
would have had no complaints
at this point
would have done me a favor
needed something to savor
as last rites could no longer be wavered
use your head
and play dead
slip away
damaged brain
take the low road
to gridlock
as youre the last one to know you’ve been slain
cystic vein all but drained
conclusion foregone
wont be long
lest you learn your own grate
navigate
tell it straight
use that beautiful mind
realign
theres still time
I was bared to the bones
and the pain was full-blown
though the rust I detected
seemed to keep me protected
it was far more than I had expected
i was no less defective
my wounds were still gaping
and twenty-one grams
still intent on escaping
but no longer did i feel quite so caged in
not to say these wounds weren’t substantial
having been so crudely dismantled
but they sealed
over time
and the voice of an angel
wouldn’t hear me resign
paid my dues now for every last crime
im still mortally wounded
but it’s no longer conclusive
giving up wasn’t in natures plan
as for every last wound on display
to this day
I took every last one like a man
Richard Charles Stevens
Keeper of The Crimson Quill
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