Beckon

Are you not the orchestra beckoning me into Auschwitz,
With your sweet serenade of death
At the hands of brutes?
Are you not the calling of the waves,
Rolling over my head,
Wishing only to claim me to your depths?
My works will set me free, you proclaim,
But in my heart I know you lie,
You have only a fire inside.
My soul must burn with passion,
But yours, it only burns, burns to consume.
I know your eyes. So I reply;
“Get behind me Satan”
As my Lord did to.

No, despite your sincere claims,
I am not the one who is chained.

Beckon

jbultimate9

Joined January 2008

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