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Like an animal locked in its cage, I pace in circles. Am I going mad or have I just created a routine for myself? Are the pads of my feet worn from strength or exhaustion? The blade of grass that has been trampled no longer quivers as I pass it. Smushed and torn, wilting into the ground. Does it find its fate akin to mine? This cage we share, the iron bars, does it really entrap us?
Aren't our words from desire? Do they come from nothing? Is this the want I believe or just a fake I weaved and etched. Covered in your thoughts, every word carved deep into my skin. I am reading them, but am I? Do I seek their meaning wrongfully... My blood bleeds dark with your will. Written and rewritten on the walls, flowing. The door out jams from dried immortal wine. Even with my strength I can't break the seal. Could I be the one to scrub away the pain from these walls? So many queries, so few answers. You'd think a vampire wouldn't become sick of blood. But, his own smells quite foul. Thy and thine blade of grass, you understand me don't you? Useless plant.
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