Like Prometheus tied on a rock with an eagle-ravaged liver,
Bands of hard rubber bind my heart, grasping every sliver.
Long have I endured this Sorrow's pain,
Wonder if I can still barely stay sane.
"No... no... I can't carry on!" my hurt insides screamed maniacally.
"Run, run far, far away," my weaker self coaxed insidiously.
For days and days I've ran so hard,
For days and days I've ran so far.
Each step taken tightens the vice-like grip of those rubber bands,
Each tightening numbs my heart and lessens the pain from Sorrow's land.
But on every night, like this lonely one,
I'll slip and fall, and all my work's undone.
The rubber jerks me back by the heart mercilessly,
Taut turns to slack, letting blood out torrentially.
Waking up in the morning drenched in last night's blood,
Both feet half-entrenched back in Sorrow's mud.
Just as Prometheus regrows a liver for the eagle to rip out each dawn,
The bands pull me back to where I started from, no matter how far I've gone.
Will I ever break those bands?
