I walk these halls with death.

It takes my hand as the roaches crawl by,
Leading me past the maggots and flies.

I walk through doors to die.

The inmates' whispers seep through my ears
With a putrid smell of hatred and fear.

I walk alongside the dead.

They scream and stare and sing lullabies-
Their blood is warm with no life in their eyes.

I walk past rooms of death.

The shackles on walls, the scalpels and powders
Who is the warden and who are the prisoners?

I walk for them to die.

My hands may leave bodies broken and cold
But all I have done is free their souls
From this wretched pit, this bottomless hole
Of despair, dismay, and horrors untold.



Penned by my hand on the 25th of Valnuary, in the year 636 AF.