I am here.
In this dungeon.
I fear losing my grip on sanity,
for the longer I am bound to this cage
the more I feel my mind chip away.

I wonder if I am alive
I beg for proof I am still breathing
that my heart still beats
as spiders cling to their webs
and spin away their beds,
while I am anchored to this filthy floor.

Mold creeps on the walls
and the air is thick with filth
My lungs crackle with effort
as I choke on the grim smog.
The bars that hold me captive
like some sort of animal are deep iron.
The stench of rotting flesh begins to accumulate,
and my chains rust with the hate leaping from my cold hearted veins.

Rusted so thick the orange brown crust pierces my skin
I bleed.