The Mines

I will not be allowed to light,
the strings, they are too tight.

See me here in this cave, this mine,
the walls not stone, but paper, string, and ink.
Rolled and hardened a unbreakable wall,
and the chains roll out from them.
They are not visible though, they are too clever,
strings though sewed into my spine,
in elaborate designs so my skin is not my own.
I never see there face, they are not really there, we will never meet.
Faraway phantoms bent over edges watching.
Or that is how I envision them sulking.
They pull me whatever way they can
till my skin is rolled over itself.
An abomination of sorts, disfigured,
a bizarre replica.
Hammering at the walls, leave me be,
to my modern money world.