The cacophony of the crowded halls
Scream in my ears. Students shove
Each other just to reach their despised clases.
How ironic we are. We run desperately
To be punished by an executioner who doesn't kill
But tortures, stabs you with unknown
Knives. They believe the scars
They've given us will be a prize
For our future lives. We asked for this.
The executioner expects us to willingly
Take each migraine blow like a flock of masochists.
Well, there is always someone like that:
A person who is willing to thrive in prison and
Be forever punished. In the end, it is the willing sinner
Who will walk high up on heaven's floors.
Some will rot in the depths of Tartarus and continue
To suffer. Most will wander the Fields of Asphodel
Without a dream, just to live and ponder on regrets.
Their daydreams will be of the heavens
Their nightmare is: their life. But all share one thing;
They all reminisce about the
Melodic halls, the loud giggles from mates,
The adrenaline rush each hour, the family of five hundred,
The fathers and mothers of this family who taught them life.
They all ponder on how life was before life kicked in.
Look, the monster came out of the closet.
