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Chains
March 29, 2010
The metal is cold against my bare skin.
I move to sit up
And my shackles bite into my wrists.
Why did you do this to me?
Didn't you care about me?
Didn't you love me?
I guess you didn't,
Otherwise you wouldn't have put me here,
In this cold, dark room with nothing but chains to garnish my body.
But you did it anyway.
Because you didn't love me,
You didn't care about me,
So you felt no remorse when you threw me aside like a useless tool.
You left me here,
In this cold, dark room,
Chained with your memory.
© Sarah M., Blairsville, PA
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