They locked me away for what I did to a few
even when I told them it was not true.
They couldn’t spill my blood or set me a fire,
Instead they bring me here to this tower of wire.
They give me food or even peek their head,
always awaiting the day I am dead.
I scream at times when it is night,
but my sounds are away from hearing and my face is away from sight.
The years grow long in this tomb of hell,
but I am not the only one that dwells in this cell.
A rodent scurries across the floor from time to time,
and I ask jokingly what is your crime.
Still it is cold and the ground bares no heat,
and I am not blessed with fir but cold concrete.
My feet ache from the shackles that brace my heal,
all this punishment is from the slaves I had to kill.
Why did I do it how was it done,
for I will not tell, but let you know I was to be the most beautiful one.
I am a noble born and bread,
who care if slaves serve my needs while they are dead.
The years I have been entombed in this hole are too many to count,
and I will never see a man or have my horse mount.
The scratches in the wall are for those that wish to read,
for I will never see life again or bare a man’s seed.
The imagery here just blew me away! The story you told had me captivated from your first line to your last. Very good choice of words to express your meaning making it an interesting poem to read and I enjoyed it.
I like the idea. It's about countess bathory, right? The flow was very forced, I think it would have done better as a non-rhyming poem. The balance was off and there were a few grammatical errors but other than that it was ok.