Ancient chains of rusting copper,
Turn to dust beneath my grip,
The same now scatter on the ground,
That once held me too fast and thick.
The fraying ropes now brush my hands,
From where they once taut harsh my skin,
They slowly slither from my wrists,
Where you can see the bone, within.
The burning coals, now ashen dust,
Leave scorch marks still upon my chest,
The rain, it soaks me, cleans my blood,
So I can lie in painful rest.
The dagger, piercing through my stomach,
Lies there, still, embedded deep,
Within my flesh, I slowly draw it,
Drinking all the blood I weep.
The spikes that drove into my leg,
Leave marks upon my shallow flesh,
They slowly turn to air, again,
The cords that once held on with mesh.
The rocks they threw to break my arm,
Can still be seen by shattered bone,
The skin can not repair the wound,
But time can wear away the stone.
And, so, the every trap that bound me,
Flesh and blood and bone and skin,
All melt away, as I retreat,
Beyond the mind I dwelt within.
My soul is free, my thoughts, intact,
I watch my corpse just drift away,
Eroded by the ice and wind,
As I watch on, another day.
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