The night as cold as these chains,
Wrist-binding
All along lying,
in my lone bedfold.
The night is as silent
As my ragged breathing
Gradually disappearing
like this candle of late
Rising to eh distant footsteps
Chest anchors with each beat
The metal bolts screeched open
Closed eyes, I breathe free
Numbed, this tired vessel,
To the pain and sorrow felt
For none hurts more
Of death in the hands of fellow men
Bonifacio