The Key

Chains made of pure iron
Lock her in a suffocating abyss.
By day, she searches incessantly for the key that will unbind the chains.
She claws at the walls,
and convincingly,
She ascends.
But by nightfall,
The chains tighten their grip,
And down she tumbles,
Back into the abyss.
It is here in the dark that she wonders,
if there is a key that exists at all,
And whether she truly wants it found.



She entered the ocean with what she thought was a sufficient raft.
A raft that filled her days to create. A raft that gave her life when she was ashore.
But who was she fooling?
Afloat for but a few minutes, she began her descent.
She was not even aware of the waters until it reached her lips.
By then, it was too late.
She was submerged.


The Culprit

Her self control combusts into flames.
Her mind withers to an unreachable corner.
Her morals are teared down by relentless waves
And her body is infested with insatiable leeches.

So what is she supposed to do when her only fortification crumbles
And her pawns become the spwans
and her cry for help is a mere whisper of defeat.

What she does is
She accepts the cage of solitude,
She conforms to the savage desires,
She feeds the life-sucking leeches.

And now, the divide is no longer between her and them.
It’s between her and her.
Because at the root of the split,
lies the culprit from the very beginning.