Stained
Elevating downward to rusty nail and shaky cage
Scarred notched wood and metal dinged
Bolts line beams like buckshot
Final floor of the depths piercing bell chimes
Screaming door prys open to reveal green wisping lights that play on the tattered cloth of half dead
They beg for cannot be given
Frail grasps for ankles and wrists
Each breath is fresh dust and yesterday's pipe to coat the lungs
Sticky path with splotches of ageless gooey dark
Endless creaky jungle feeding from the scraps that leak from the cobbles above
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