Captive

imagination gores the placid woman's sleeping the rosebud curtains devoured, by her hideous dreams an endless despair, under cover of cold darkness- in the grey forever, god heard all her screams. in the grave, the bones to dust are tending elusive ash too feral, for clinging rosebush roots one wonders if the cries will only have their ending in some other world, where pain must remain mute. life castles and the crowns fall only to the victors and destiny guides, though the chained silence crawl in malfeasance, dungeons spring like ghosts condemning broken moonlight- that has held the heart in thrall.