Listen. All you hear are the sounds of my

ragged breath.

What sins have I committed that got me

into this mess?

It no longer matters, all that does is

my escape.

I refuse to accept I’ve been buried alive

as my wicked fate.

Like mice on a wheel, my brain keeps turning

for a plot,

that can help get out of this dark and

suffocating spot.

Bound and restrained with my hands

against my chest.

I struggle endlessly to release these restraints

while taking no rest.

Hope glimmers within as my restraints

come undone.

It may have been a struggle, but the hard

part has just begun.

Sight of pitch black nothingness makes

me panic just a bit.

I feel as though I’m going to start losing my mind,

I have to find a way out quick.

Feeling around, there is nothing but a knife,

lighter and a note.

It said, “I’d never escape unless I burn

or cut my own throat.

That my life of sin had led me here and

that I’m six feet under.

And that no one knows where I am or the

belongings that I’ve plunder.

My life of thief led me to this morbid

moment in time.

And that what I took from them and others

are no longer mine.”

It said that there is no place in the world

for a sly fox.

And that it is my fault that I now have to

die in this box.

Fear, rage, and sorrow fills me as I

tear up the note and cry.

It’s because I stole from the wrong person

that I was buried alive.

 

Image: FEAROF.net

This poem was inspired by one of my favorite songs by my favorite band: Buried Alive- Avenged Sevenfold. Check out the song and video.

 

 

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