Brick By brick, stone by stone,

I build my own prison,

From the inside out.

The night is coming down.

With every step I take,

The further back I slide.

The higher toward the sky I reach,

The further in my hole I climb.

Do my crimes resurrect me?

Written in blood, hear my testimony,

It tells the tale of the hell I traverse;

The making of a Saint in reverse.

My every choice is disturbed.

My reflection, is Dorian Gray

On the day he became his worst.

Of the last in line, I am the first.

My sentence is to know

Every blow, every lash,

Every cut or unjust act

In this life, I’ve inflicted.

I will feel every cubic millimeter,

Of pain experienced at my gain.

The cost of this loss fills in me,

Until each and every cell swells

In complete abject misery;

Like the casket's dirt pouring over me.

Only when I allow myself

To consume this unholy host,

Of every ghost that haunt

All of the lives I have ruined;

Only then may I begin

To know and see,

The far fringes

Of my blackened stream.

The lengths I will go

Are so far unknown.

My depths of depravity,

Are an abscess cavity.

Tear me out by the root

To face the dismal truth.

I hand twill my hanging noose.

It is strung above the gallows

Under the large Oak tree.

The hangman has become

My one honest friend,

For in the end he is the only man

Who will somehow understand,

As I approach my last solemn stand.

It is his judgment's fate, I long await,

For the simple release,

Given over by his means.

All the while my victims

Watch, cry, and yell,

In wild crazed revelry,

Upon my execution day.

May they be vindicated now,

If it might bring to my soul and thiers,

Some final and ever lacking peace.