Its not there for me to question.
Its not there for me to use.
The chained, charred-skinned grinning fiend looks up from a long slumber. His maniacally white eyes and teeth mock me into some slow somber waltze.
Doubt.
Depression.
Defeat.
Is he taking from me, or just an instrument to make it stop, laughing as I refuse him.
At first I am repulsed, the exposed muscle, and flaking char...
what have I done to you, in denying you?
My unfulfilled wishes, are now unrecognizeable, twisted, mad.
I take that warm, leathery flesh in my hand, calloused, growing new skin over the exposure.
"What does the master wish?" He wheezes in humorous bitter hatred.
I can only imagine how coldly pitying my eyes are in this moment, his hand in my chin.
My hand in my chin,
like an offering to sacrifice for an uncaring god,
from an uncaring owner.
Metonymy.
What was really abandoned here?
Who really stopped caring?
I trace a finger over the wretched's face, over his worn-through cheeks, his missing eyelids, his wrinkle-less brow. His animal ferocity subdued.
"What purpose can you even serve as you are now?"
Chained in dark silk to a stirring cage.
Burned, broken, starved.
"If you are of any use at all-"
his eyes lighting up in some perversion of excitement, a wish for approaval?
"then you'll be able to break these bonds when it is called for. Set yourself free, if you are in fact that strong or needed." My hand snaps from his face, with the same abruptness as his anger appears.
With a scream
a pained, and abandoned roar
he lurches for my throat
still bound to the prison he holds shut.
Am I just stumbling in the darkness...
am I just fumbling in my psyche,
by abandoning such strength?
What am I trying to prove?