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Sitting here in the dungeon, The chains bruising my wrists, The smell of rot drifts, Hearing all the cries it feels as if I dont exist. Knowing the chains are bound to the wall, I feel so small. Thinking of where my capturers could be, I could barely see. It felt so empty, Wondering if anyone was looking for me. It is dark and nasty
But will anyone rescue me? I dreamed of the great things I have done; The great people I have met. Like the others that have been here before I wait for the end of this war. Only being able to see from a flicker of light, And not having the ability to fight. But now I have to waste away, To sit here to rot and fray, In this Dungeon.
THE DUNGEON
Glog & Poem by Amber
glogster added this comment 2008-02-21 05:29:57-06:00
Nice!
glogster added this comment 2008-02-21 05:29:57-06:00
Nice!