Prison-er

Crying on the glass floor, crouched on the corner of a darkened room, hidden from the vibrant moonlight

Making a sound once or twice to sob and sniff, whispering continuously to the heavens above

No angel had impressed an appearance; the gentle drip of tears fell loudly onto the puddle beside, echoing loudly in the silent prison.

Nothing momentous had occurred on the late hours of the full moon, the improved coldness served as a blanket, the howls of wolves, the sweetest melody for the distraught

Weakened, blackened and torn apart, the figure staggered to reach the bars to force the cell to open or screech if its senses would allow.

It did not seem if it had succeeded on grasping the steel, it was invisible.

How?

Utopia must be coming; at last it had answered the mortal’s call

Renewed passion had blessed the wounded entity, as it miraculously enabled itself to crawl on the dark corridor.

A blood trail had lined behind the unrecognizable creature as it forced its way to nothingness.

Nothingness it is.

Anywhere would be a good place to settle, better than incarceration

It blinked twice, a cracked, wooden framed mirror stood inches from the crawler.

Finally, it faced the glass seeing a duplicate of itself, except looking wiser, cleaner and questionably, happier.

It bowed down with face on its filthy palms.

It peered again a look of disgust at the object, which it expected to appear as another liar in disguise.

It was not.

Maybe faith had done it or the reflexes worked once again, the crouched prisoner stood up automatically, feeling no pain at all.

It surveyed the surroundings a s though it was a dream, it was not dark as it expected, but illuminated with dazzling light as it had never pictured it.

It cried out loud, after many dreadful decades, the prison was never a reality.

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