Listen. All you hear are the sounds of my
What sins have I committed that got me
into this mess?
It no longer matters, all that does is
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
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
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.
This poem was inspired by one of my favorite songs by my favorite band: Buried Alive- Avenged Sevenfold. Check out the song and video.