Poezja

In a small desolate room
I am sitting all alone
I keep thinking 'soon..'
Knowing he has never shown.

They wanted to torture me, 
Took away my heart.
I no longer am free
Nor can I tear apart.

A mirror is standing 
Revealing my fears
I can also see them landing..
My crimson red tears.

I am their beautiful puppet
Dressed in a white pure skin
I can hear the deafness of their trumpet
It is me they shall redeem.

Whose puppet am I? 
Why is there no one with me? 
If i were my master, I'd cry..
Why wouldn't he set me free? 

'The world is dangerous.'
The hole started to talk
'I love you, am serious
Therefore you shall be free to walk.'

I look towards the dark hole
My master has come trough the night
I grinned, he gave back my soul
And now I can once again write.