These ropes that hold me bound in place
made of nothing that seams to be real
clasping firmly side to side
ensuring that I don't escape
what could be made to hold
that in itself holds no matter
is there no control
in being prisoner
to ones own error
silence slips around
quietly pulling tighter still
leaving me still bound
to wither in silence
that I desire
as the world I love
burns to ash and tinder
