I sit within my shadowy cage, it's bars are invisible to the eye:
and, as days tick ever slowly by, my legs feel as heavy as a rock.
Can I leave my isolation today, or remain affixed and tired even if I try?
From my solitary perch I watch and see the madmen run amok.

I listen to no calls for my name and my letters pile up unopened,
I judge not on who speaks to me, friend or foe, my apathy is the same.
I wish not company who seek selfish attention, only my bottles full & unbroken:
And to those who wish to reach me, help me, I am sorry for this pain.

I wish to move, to speak, to yell, to cross this bridge I stand before,
but as soon as I even try my plight seems to have been forsaken.
Because instead the bridge is burnt, for it takes more than one to restore,
and from me what little energy remains is taken.

I wanted some time to breathe. I was tired, angry, dour.
But I return to search for sweet escape, instead my presence brings only sour.

Penned by my hand on the 14th of Valnuary, in the year 828 AF.