Your words are a prison;
They speak of chains.
My shrieks are uttered out
In hoarse, unprolonged strains.
They sting and they whip me.
I tell you no lie.
Instead of this torture,
I rather would die.
Dreams become nightmares,
And sleep's become naught.
Into your web I've been flung
And mercilessly caught.
Oh find me a beacon!
Oh find but a way
To turn this dark prison
To freedom by day!
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