Torture

I try to describe the hell that I've seen

In wars, missions between dreams I dream

The good ones are you and me, searching 

The 4th floor perfect mansion above our

Dormitory, the 3rd floor, always a no no 

For you taboo, much to say about the 2nd though

You pull me too, every time we are on watch on the 4th

For defiling perfectly arranged, father's mansion 

Furniture, too perfect, I'd say, glamorous, let's stay

You always say, but the warders are always on guard

Say to the floors below, learn some more in the dormitory

Far, we have come me and my little one, always above

The right, the tsk tsk'r on the left, I salute and peace be

Upon that little nay sayers best bet, days ahead, although

I admit, Yes Even I have tried to cut my own thread, only

To have it rewrap around brighter stronger, and hear a 

Resounding No, like you've been here here you will stay once

More until your transmit pure divine infinite love, or was it 

The other word, wrap way around, to these days to this town

I say shun, I'm a bit done, the hermit in my cave will tell it too proud

There is one other duality I still pray that goes away, the war

and the missions that always replay, and the torture that burns

My lids, although not once, did I remember once, a torture which won

In a card game there are thrones, there are court cards, always a trump.

Christopher Baird 2011 ©