I stared into the empty grave,
And waited to run to thee,
Who plan to make me slave
To the ground under me.
My shattered hopes crushed to dust,
As tears of loves wet the soil.
They only stay as strong as they must
When the rope lowers me toil for toil.
My entrapment in the wooden cage,
My skin pale and cold,
I held onto my rage,
As it followed me through the old.
The stone they used to mark,
Would never fill the hole,
Of where my beating heart went dark.
And what used to be my soul.
