Rorschach's Cage

Walking in the dark,
walls made of stone.
Every step gives pause,
for they are not alone.

Breath grows heavy,
the path is long.
Ever downward,
to where all hope is gone.

As dim light glows,
what was dreaded appears.
Bars made of steel,
a cage draws near.

A creature small and weak,
sad and forgotten he sits.
Eyes empty and lost,
round bars tighten his grip.

Voice which once was lost,
whispers a now faded echo.
“Tomorrow I rise
out of depths below.”

Strong words spoken
from one without a way.
How could this be?
You pause, “What did you say?”

Again, with forced breath,
voiced deep from shadow,
“Tomorrow I rise
out of depths below.”

Chilled words spoken twice.
What could this be?
The creature’s breath escapes him,
perhaps he utters a plea. 

“What has brought you here?
Was it evil or some great foe?”
“Tomorrow I rise
out of depths below.”

“Curse your infernal chanting!”
For that is what it must be.
This creature so forgotten
has lost all thought. Has he?

This place not on map,
a cave once unknown.
Contained within its walls,
the echoed yearning of a throne.

The moment grows cold,
a chill of memory lost.
Light grows foggy,
thy own voice now cold as frost.

Sight now fleeting and vacant.
What happens to me?
Body grows tired and weak.
What happens to me?

With unexpected strain,
for voice no longer will flow.
“Tomorrow I rise
out of depths below.”

Nerve now lost, as is control.
What happens to me?
Future is vacant yet foreseen.
What happens to me?

Now inhabited within the cage,
through haunted vision I see.
What once could have been.
But now, it is me.

Tags: Anger, Metaphor, Pain, Dark, Fear,