Wires entwined in and out of each other,
Bound so tightly with leaves winding in,
Holding down what they wish not to uncover,
No one knows the dark which is held within.
The wooden frame that is now struggling,
From the many attempts of burnt out escape,
Every now and then pure sunlight smuggling,
To the dark shadow of the captive's shape.
Ropes hold a rough worn out roof in place,
Tied messily serving only for one desire,
To keep together a cast out and unwanted space,
Weaved into the rusting still strong wire.
Noises escape through the harsh winter air,
such an innocent sound chirping to my ear,
but the voice so scaring filled with such despair,
floating through the deep wire frontier.
Now the years have passed and the sound has gone,
but the frame still remains filled with dark memories,
on the cold dirt floor lays a soul not yet withdrawn,
still held and tortured by the captor's keys....