rather take dense iron
cherry red from smith work
placing upon my chest
burning for eternity
then stand without you
drag these apish knuckles
in shattered glass
laying on a bed of iced nails
from a winters fiercest hailstorm
before being without you
living breathless
locked in a medieval dungeon
well before my time
fighting for existence itself
rather then wait, knowing not of a single chance
break sturdy bone with steel
pressed by gods, repeating strikes
being reminded of time controlled constraints
holding back all that\'s needed to go on
instead of stalling in thought of what can be