Freedom at Midnight

It was the twilight hour,
Silence gripped the household,
The night silence became a cover,
For freedom,a step bold.

A walk around the house..
witnessed all peacefully lying,
Now seated at the edge of my bed,
Extracting the apple, A gift from the dying.

The apple here..was the forbidden needle,
Promised escape,Promised pleasure.
Shaking fingers held,
This cursed blade of treasure.

Oh! How the heavens opened!
Such clarity of thought,
I could feel the air dousing flames in my lungs,
Amazed such happiness could be bought.

For once I felt the moving earth,
I felt the reason in my birth,
I felt no pain nor shame nor guilt,
Flung off life's suffocating quilt.

If this was madness..
If this could kill!
Then why would millions,
Be swayed by its will?

I was confident..This was Life!
As God intended.
I was assured..This was the burlesque,
That Life pretended.

Cometh the morning after,
Expecting to grieve as its effect,
waiting in fear,if not my mind,
My body to show the defect.

But instead I felt the might,
Of the irresponsible blasphemous night,
My senses were unrestrained,
My faculties regained.

The needle was a miracle worker..
each night i solemnly dipped its mouth,
It sucked in holy water..from the abyss of mortar,
and sprayed life on my body devout.

I could break the vial..free myself,
I pondered while I lay in bed,
Afore me..the Road to Salvation,
I chose murder instead.

It matters not how i end..Nor matters what i do..
for, a life is virtuous gallantry,
Or, Selling myself cheaper,
Will not alter consequence,
When I meet the Grim Reaper.