The Price of Freedom

The walls still whisper names in pain,

where blood and silence both remain.

You bought my soul, to set me free,

but freedom came too late for me.

Your fire burned against the stone,

I felt your heart, yet stood alone.

And love became a blade so deep,

it cut the vow we swore to keep.

Blood chains, pulling at the light,

bound by day and cursed by night.

You fell for me, I bled for you—

and freedom’s cost was never true.

Blood chains, crimson on the sand,

I reach for you with trembling hands.

The price we paid, we can’t undo,

for love was death, and death was you.

The echoes cry, they call your name,

our sins are carved in flame.

I swore to save what once was pure,

but pain became the cure.

Your eyes were fire, mine were stone,

and still, I can’t let go.

I live the ghost of what we were,

a wound that never heals, I know.

Blood chains, pulling at the light,

bound by day and cursed by night.

You fell for me, I bled for you—

and freedom’s cost was never true.

Blood chains, crimson on the sand,

I reach for you with trembling hands.

The price we paid, we can’t undo,

for love was death, and death was you.

If pain’s the price we had to pay,

then let the fire take me away.

I’d bleed again, I’d fall, I’d die—

if it meant your soul could fly.

Blood chains, binding through the night,

torn apart yet holding tight.

You gave me life, I gave my soul,

and freedom broke what made us whole.

The blood still burns, the scars remain,

but through the dark, I speak your name.

Blood chains whisper through the flame—

I’m still yours…

all the same.