Poetry - The Escape Route

Only if he could fly, Only if he could cry, Trapped in the shackles of cold, Is he you really want to hold Reserved, hollow, cold blooded, Leaving behind a trail flooded, Mysterious, dark, undefined, By the iron, he's confined Damaged bonds along the way, Nothing to link to the past, There's nothing left for you to say, He himself hasn't asked Mending ways in your sight, He'd let you shine bright, Only if he could fly, Only if he could cry

Darkness covering his eyes, Emptiness eating him inside, Just the thought of his rise, Leaves his mind cast aside Innocence left behind, Love shoved to the side, Unable to move, unwilling to grind, Consumed in his pride, Freedom forcefully taken away, Caged within his own thoughts, Butchered bodies on the way, Left alone to rot Would he break free, Or would he be consumed, On his knees, he pleads, Beyond his end, not to be exhumed