This life, is built on a mountain,

Corpses, so many corpses,

They asked us, what we'd do,

With all our freedom, now,

Our ghost watches, it watches,

Choices, so many choices,

Our heart beats,

The water courses,

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

Undercurrents, and layers,

So many, I'm scared,

This poetry, if it’s not released,

If it’s not satisfied, it will express itself,

In other ways, and it may take my life,

Blood, so much blood, crossed barriers, and hymens,

What will it take, to forget, how much, is enough,

That was my mistake, when I was alive, young, fresh virgin,

I thought they were just words, it didn’t matter, what I write,

But these words, crossed so many barriers, and the world remembers,

If they’re not expressed,

If they’re not expressed,

I would be consumed with emotion,

No barrier to stop them,

Rape, murder, mayhem,

I wouldn’t know how to stop them,

I’ve walked, this whole life,

On a knife’s edge,

Sometimes, I blame it on the heavens,

But it was my choice, it was,

How the flower bloomed,

They’re just reminding me,

Undercurrents, a mountain of corpses,

Ghosts, spirits, rivers,

They remember,

They remember…