Barefoot on the broken glass
You struggle not to make a sound
You have escaped, alive no less
Keep running and don't turn around
The whispers told them you're impure
That cut and tear your flesh they can
That suffering will be the cure
They called the whispers "God". You ran
But treacherous became the soil
Unsteady footing, laboured breath
The swamp so strongly stank of oil
That's when you noticed blackened grass
The fire cleanses all, they say
A flaming sword archangel held
A tricked and hunted weakened prey
No heaven's worth the pain you felt
Burn
Fire licks the skin
Sickening sweet smell
Burns away the sin
And the hope you held
Now you see the bones
Menacing and still
Most are gnawed upon
Join them you will