Chains

This a low

Beyond tears,

Under bedrock,

Into the core

Of the Earth we maimed.

/

I do not weep;

For this sadness transcends emotion,

Buries into the marrow

Of my bones,

Strangling my heart,

Calcifying my soul.

/

I have been rendered void

In the eyes of men,

Become little more

Than means to an end,

In which life blooms,

At the cost of a dying spirit.

/

I am the cracks

In the breaking glass;

The smoke above

A burning pile of books;

The dimming flame

Atop a candle nearly melted.

/

I am a coward,

Afraid of the forces at large.

I'm no fighter,

My words useless on a battlefield,

A bloodless assault.

/

My life is limited,

The hourglass horizontal,

Gripped in the wrinkled hands,

Of men who think they're gods,

Of men wrapping me in chains.

/

Yet again,

I am a fixture,

A slate wiped clean.

Soon I will have no name,

No accolades,

No rights to my own body.

/

I have become an unperson,

Vaporized from the notions

Determining my worth.

I will be a commodity,

My only significance.

/

The sun will rise tomorrow,

And more barriers will be placed around me,

Like chain-linked fences.

How much room will I have

For me to breathe,

To walk without eyes following me?