I am a muzzled menace, buried in the mire:
hatched by human hands, I hold hell
in my death-design, a dormant demon
lying paralyzed, my single purpose being
My single remorse—it rings round
Like a wailing widow, wretched and wrecked.
Sightless and soundless, I cannot scream,
I cannot warn, I cannot whisper, “wait!”
To the blameless blood, the breathing body
which will come creaking, upon my cursed cage
ending everything. Endlessly eavesdropping,
I wait in dreamless dread, listening for that damned
misstep, that mad mistake.