Thousands of them.
Tightening around me.
But I’m still alive.
I’m not alive of my own will.
I’m being kept alive.
Like a modern day Prometheus.
Except that no Hercules will ever step forth.
To free me from these binds.
Maybe I will suffer like this, for eternity.
My lungs will struggle for air.
My tongue for water.
And my eyes, my hollowed out eyes.
Will forever try to pierce the darkness.
In the search of a glimmer of light.