A Prison of Death

His eyes lit aflame

On a face of frozen stone.

His wintry mane hung wild,

Blending with his splotchy beard.

They said he had survived a snowstorm,

And come through it, not a man,

But the storm itself.

 

The prison bars opened,

His orange suit clung tight

To a figure that didn’t belong

On such a haggard man.

They feared him,

Like the Greeks feared the gods.

 

The room was motionless,

Watching every step of a man,

That was not a man. 

Behind him the stories would circulate.

The number of people he killed,

The reasons he was here.

They feared him,

Like they feared the Devil. 

 

He sat with the chains hung around his arms,

Restraints that didn’t feel enough.

He spread his arms,

And then he smiled, 

For they feared him, 

They feared him, like they feared death itself.

 

This poem is about: 
Our world

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