the curtains are drawn closed,

       the doors are shut tightly and locked,

dim the lights as well, i guess,

       and keep this gun cocked.

feverish breathing and a racing heartbeat,

       perhaps he's nervous?

but how so, when he is the one who enslaves me,

      right in my own mind.

vision is fading,

      eyes are closing,

and a terrible itch in my eye;

       i call it sleep.

i can hear the agony and sorrow weep into the sobbing mans voice,

      but how dare he?

when he struck a chord of fear in my own?

      i want to punch the mirror for making me feel such things.

shatter it to the ground. 

      and i may bleed, but at least on my own accord.

and she will enter the room, kissing my bruised fists.

- dim the lights