In this dungeon I have built,
I question all my thoughts.
As my body comes to wilt,
my mind has yet to rot.
Which is why that I contrive to sell the world my soul,
I know that they don't need it,
but still I play the role.
So long have I looked out these bars which tether me,
with guilt I never had,
by thoughts I never see.
But I will serve my penance
Justice must be served.
Just leave me with the remnants,
life that I reserved.
I can't decipher what I mean,
I try to raise my tone.
At first, I thought, I am unseen,
Instead, I am alone.
But darkness is not unusual,
in the dungeon I am held.
The silence is rather usable,
and through it I am compelled.