Push

Within iron halls stalk shadows.
Born in darkness, raised in war, living in lies,
Hate, confusion, fear is all he knows.

Peace a ruse and passing,
Joy a lie:
Ploys of enemies amassing.

A crushing weight his life,
A blindfold upon his soul,
Existence an agony, strife.

Dawn may crest in might.
But when all known is darkness;
How can one see light?

Loathing, his prison.
Doubt, his labyrinth.
Misery, a lesion.

Yet remains an inward fire;
An unknown purpose in a purposeless life,
Driven by ire.

One may hang upon this rope,
But though all is hopeless,
There yet remains hope.

Author's Note

Say what you will. Support is appreciated.