The bonds that make men
can break them too. Your honor was a dagger,
made dull by time's procession. Your mind, dull the same.
What purpose did loyalty serve when you were
locked in chains? Were your promises a key
that granted freedom?
And rotting in a cell, with your pride raw,
an exposed lakebed, you called out again
for redemption.
Your voice had shrunk to the beat of a lamb.
Funny how farm animals talk.
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