Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Aug 2017
Guarded by darkness, it's too late,
The dungeon doors have closed.
The lights of heaven faded from your existence.
The sound of rattling chains,
Echoes off four chambers.
Lingering on your tongue,
Metallic lust from ankle cuffs.
You beg your veins to open up, and
swallow the poison you need so much.
To feel the indulging touch, that crippling crutch, you need to feel so much.
Crawl through your path of reason
Lighted with dim red lights, lined with zombies too lethargic to fight.
You stand, but you're too weak to stride,
So you slide by the hands that bite you.
They guide you down your hall of lesion,
Until you reach your crimson prison.
Written by
Michelle Adams
917
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems