PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

He sat there with his hands in his lap, folded as if he were gently holding a butterfly he did not want to let escape. He does not know why he was here, for it was dark and intimidating in the brick room he sat in. Tiny pins are shoved into his back as he sits there tied with his hands folded. He watches as the blood drips from his back as the masked predator continues pushing tiny golden needles in his back. He tries to let out a scream, and is knocked unconscious before a sound can come out. When he awakens, he is woken up to the sound of ballet music. He looks around, but all he sees is darkness. He is tied down to a table of some sort, and can only see a tiny red light appear above his head. He closes his eyes and prays that when they open, they open to him being free again. He opens his eyes, but this time the red light is closer, but it is not a light, it is a rose. He tries to grab it, but quickly is reminded his wrists and ankles are bound to the surface he lay upon. He is hungry, but cannot see food anywhere, and his neck is not bound. He lunges forward to take a bite of this random rose and is instantly knocked out again. Cold. Stone cold. He dreams of freedom, happiness, and peace of mind, however, is rudely awoken by the masked being once more. He does not know how she caught him or when he was dragged to that horrible house of horrors, but he does know that he has to escape. With each attempt he tries, he is only sucked farther into the maze, and deeper into the seemingly endless pit. He opens his eyes to a more challenging room. One door too high up off the ground to be able to be reached, but low enough to use the rope binding his hands and feet together with to climb up to. Sitting down, he begins to gnaw away at the ropes, when suddenly the walss start caving in. spikes appeared just as he freed his hands. And, just in the nick of time, he frees his feet using the spiked wall. All has stopped. the walls no longer moved, the man no longer enslaved, and the room no longer a dimmed by a rosey red light. He is finally free, free to breathe and eat, and even to gaze at the casket in which holds the petals of his once beating heart.