A Cold Iron Hand

A cold iron hand clamps its grip about her
There is no life here
Icy sheets of terror
Bound about by white chains.

How she longs to escape from this prison!
To breathe the air again
To breathe the air again

  • – freely.

All about a cold and dreary world looks down upon her face
and does nothing.

A stillness of your own heart
When from nightmares and dreams you awake
Frightens you
Entraps you
You are now bound as she

In white chains.

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By Keith Survell

Geek, professional programmer, amateur photographer, crazy rabbit guy, only slightly obsessed with cute things.