by Nick Gisburne
The troubled children suffer as they sleep
Imprisoned at the centre of my scheme
The river of their misery runs deep
Within it swims the sweetness of a scream
I savour it, the search for such a prize
Oblivious to penalty or pain
With spices, broken, burned, to mesmerise
I touch the coldest corners of the brain
The rhythm of a nightmare is a key
A twist, a turn, unlocks the door to fear
Unbearable emotions, falling, free
Release a cry of terror, clean and clear
A pearl for my collection, precious, rare
A stolen scream, the essence of despair
