Darkness,
in the shadow of benevolent wings,
blind.
Life cast in night—
I am so different.
Must I be locked away?
The sun,
lost to my eyes,
painful.
Light burns,
chains to cinders,
they fall away from me.
Like a frightened animal,
run back to darkness,
all of me gone.
Into your arms I've fallen,
on your dagger,
pointless to fight now.
Your slave,
your puppet,
not free.
Can't break your hold,
until the grave.
—Unwillingly Yours