Carrie, how does your garden grow?

Are the souls of your enemies
Buried beneath your personal cemetery?

The victims on their knees
Begging, beseeching, pleading

Praying to you *and the same God for
Things to be as they were before

With silver bells, Carrie?

Are your nails sharpened to a point,
Itching to break bones at the joint?

To snap my wrists and tie
Them up - your peace of mind

Tortment me, ****** Carrie
Smirk and laugh before you bury

And cockle shells, Carrie?

Are you seen as a pleasurable fantasy?
A mask of terrible daydreams?

Your body caresses the loaded gun
He swears that pain is one with love

You are an instrument of pure torture
Who is viewed as a delicate sculpture

Are your pretty maids in a row?

Are we in a straight line
Waiting to be punished for our crime?

Your foolish prey meet the guillotine
One swift motion - sliced clean

Hail Carrie, the ****** empress,
Queen of deciet, and ***** mistress

I want to escape

My skin is a prison that I want to escape;
I know there is nothing underneath the flesh and bones I call mine,
but I can FEEL my essence angrily churning,
begging for release of this existence.

I want to escape

The flesh I occupy feels like a punishment
bestowed upon me for not being worthy of being truly free
by God who knows the tortment I wish
on those who are innocent.

I want to escape

The prison of meat I call mine was designed by a being
who isn't limited by one himself.
My flesh burns,
as my soul rejects it.

I want to escape

Can Father hear how
his creation screams inside the neat little prison
he made for me?

I want to escape

Can Father forgive me
for cutting into the walls of this prison
he made for me?

I want to escape

Can Father let me out
of this nightmare of a prison that
he made for me?

I want to escape
I want to escape
Please,
I want to escape.