Trapped

I am trapped in a hell of
My own making, blacking and
Stenching of self so much
I can hardly bear the chains

I forged.  No clean air here -
This place seethes with writhings
And all manner of unseen
Evils plaguing the mind with their wings.

There are mad screechings and
As I drag my iron and search for a door,
I know not
What my hands are for.

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