Stark naked in between the grasses,
The sharp edge of the blade was very close to the pulse,
Dehydrated but somehow manage to get up,
Every bone fighting to scream,
Seeing things in twos,
Questions like "how long has it been?" at the tip of the tongue,
All that's evident is the eight walls or maybe four?
Almost reaching the freezing point of ice,
Trying to move the legs that cannot be felt,
Nightmares like this wasn't new,
But this one becoming real,
Whoever invented the line "The way in is out"
Looking up, a smile broke out,
There's hope after all,
Suddenly, every where heated up,
Burning the skin,