I am part of the gate
cold hard rusted keeping the prisoner inside
I am just an outline
disease starting down so deep
eating its way out
this is where it begins (secret captive sin)
in a single rod of the iron gate
rusted and no longer serving its purpose
I curve my posture, veil the reflections of comprehension in eyes and breathe
and watch them participate in the movement of the play
while I am welded into the gate to watch them marching onward
I am just an outline
travel onward through crevice of shallow space catch a breath crawl onward
travel onward through crevice of shallow space catch a breath crawl onward
searing in this I die, in the openness of wound
I am part of the gate I am cold, I am rusted
I am the prisoner inside