A Prisoner

And though the cold is hostile,

I must transport these letters

To those whose time has come.

We may think it petty

To act with this response,

But do please take my palm

And travel with me first.

Daybreak is like a crystal,

Hostile to the touch.

Letters have no sight;

Come forth into the breadth.

Petty are the servers;

Response is nonchalant.

Palms are held out freely,

First to claim the prize.

Crystal are the windows;

Touch them tenderly.

Sight is barely useful in the

Breadth of this despair.

Servers are now captors,

Nonchalantly bringing death.

Freely shedding blood...

Prize the life you own.

Windows barred with steel

Tender to our hopes.

The night is swift approaching;

Despair cannot prevail!

Captors drag our comrades;

Death awaits them soon.

Blood now paints the hallways,

Owning floors of stone.

Steel is the impulse;

Hope has fallen ill.

Approaching distant gallows,

Prevailing winds still sting.

Comrades, do not tremble!

Soon we march in time,

Hallways just behind us;

Stone beneath our cries.

Impulsively I strike back,

Ill though fate may be.

Gallows are before us,

Stinging to my skin.

Trembling, I break bones;

Time is bleeding through.

Usurpers of my senses

Cry out to sound alarm!

Back into the daybreak,

Be it kind or hostile.

Us, whose fates are lettered,

Skin can black become.

Bones are all but petty

Through the harsh response;

Senses are now in my palms,

Alarmed to danger first.

Daybreak is death arising,

Hostile as a snake.

Letters cannot reach us...

Come, return to home.

Petty death collectors

Respond with drops of fire,

Palming all our last possessions,

First into the night.