Dear Imprisoning Hole,
You are a deep hole.
I had a rope, that was to pull me out.
Then I lost my grip on it and it disappeared.
So I started to attempt to climb your walls to escape,
Slipping a little every so often.
When another rope came to me.
I grabbed it with hope.
Then she cut it's weak spot and stole it.
Now I am falling to the bottom of you.
I can hear laughter.
It's coming from the ground that I now lay on.
The ground that is your deepest pull and point.
I can't tell whether the laughter is from my giving up,
Or your pleasure from my inability to escape you.
Maybe it's both.
Maybe it's not.
Maybe it's me crying.
Maybe it's you crying.
I love this prison.
I hate this prison.
I am this prison.
You are this prison.
We are not this prison.
You lured me into you by stabing my chest,
Stealing my heart,
Then burying it where neither you or I could find it.
Now, since following my heart, am stuck within you:
My hole.
When it rains,
I close my eyes and hear your words.
I feel them wash over me,
I feel them making sense, unlike their usual form.
They are clear.
Even the uncomforting are comforting.
I cry from happiness and from sorrow.
I will attempt to escape...
Tomarrow.
Sincerely,
Your Prisoner
