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Locked Up

You keep me here in this cellar
this dungeon.
On the walls
crawl little creepy crawlies
and yet those tiny creatures are more free than me.
At least they can roam the cave we live in
without fear of becoming insane,
for the longer I am bound to this
cage
the more I feel my mind chip away.
I wonder if I am alive
since this place seems like hell,
although even hell can not be this grim.
I beg for proof I am still breathing
that my heart still beats
as spiders cling to their webs
and spin away
their beds,
while I am anchored to this filthy floor.
Mold creeps on the walls
and the air is thick with filth.
The bars that hold me captive
like some sort of animal are iron.
The stench of rotting flesh accumulates,
and my chains are rusted with the hate I feel.
Rusted so thick the orange brown crust pierces my skin
I bleed.



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