Spirit Subdued

Kill me for I am not as good as you
Strip me from not just clothes
Rape me for my tongue is not the scorpions’
Dump me to the orphanage for my slow hands

I am your daily amusement
When your mood strikes a jovial hour
And you ravish all that I hold myself for
To give me doubt over my existence

I am your whore and your dog
But when did you become my master?
When did your havoc wreck my stable?
And send my grey mater homeless.

My shaded lenses filtered your vice
And I lend my head to the axe
But remember you, the trespasser
The remains of my carnage still suffice

This cauldron isn’t deep enough to drown me
And it is cooler than hell to boil me
So I stole a dagger in exile, to slit my throat
It has crept along to reach my fingers

I may be still the loyal dog
But my spirit is subdued by that of the blade's
And I may still trod the Gandhian way
But for you I pray, sleep with open eyes
Or you may never close them again, yourselves.