A whirling galore of unearthly winds,
A spirit of deprivation dawns upon me,
Smothered and choked with the impositions…
I can feel the barbaric storm twirl me.
As my mind sinks into a tumult,
In my mind every thought is exploding and rupturing,
It gets tugged into a melancholy…
As they are all planning and conspiring.
You cannot dictate my life,
Rebellion is my only strife,
You do not own me,
Neither can you govern me…
This storm will exhaust me,
Beyond a point of being cured,
This inner conflict will kill me,
And to do that I will be lured.
It will only lead to animosity,
To a point where I may become ill-willed,
As to why you wanted me killed.
This place suffocates me,
I constantly want to escape,
But thanks to you… to do that, I no more have what it takes.