Challenge
Challenge of the Month XXXIX
Write a short poem about your own private Hell. The tortured who reigns gets 100 big ones. Winner will be picked by Prose. Go.
Perish or Prosper
Trapped in a cell of my own making.
Day indistinguishable from night,
Dirt floor and stone walls surrounded.
Torches exposed a hopeless existence.
“You create your own freedom.” Truth revealed.
“How?”
“Through the water.”
A reservoir appeared.
Time passed, duration undetermined.
“Your life waits for you.” Truth urged.
Trembling hands gripped a rocky ledge.
Body submerged. Nose held. Head dunked.
An informal baptism.
A tunnel presented.
I resurfaced, wanting guarantees.
“I can’t.”
“You can.”
Terrified, I climb out,
And retreat to the safety of my cell.
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