Losing It: a poem about the Master

I can hear the cloister bell beyond the beat of four.
In my head is where it’s hell, I’m writhing on the floor.
My guardian angel’s one who fell and good is such a bore.
I know, I know that I’m not well, and I can’t take much more.

In his voice I hear his dread, but I’ve yet to begin
In the light it’s all so red and how it draws me in…
And I could scream to raise the dead as I commit my sin
To love someone when in his head I’m just a foe again.

And all of time and space to choose, he left me there alone
He turned my heart into a bruise and then into a stone
And was his friendship all a ruse? It’s all I’d ever known!
I was destroyed by this abuse and he cannot atone.

But now he says that he forgives? He does not know my pain!
And now he says to try to live—
Well, I’ll hurt him again.