Slender beams of accusation enter
this darkened chamber as I kneel,
always a slave, always driven,
frozen here,
waiting.
Tortured forms wrought in panes of glass loom as
dust dances in the air,
forming an image in my mind,
searing my darkened soul.
Blood on a deathless face.
I raise my head, now embracing
this uncaring darkness.
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August 12th