Purgatory

In the morning you rise,
Not from a bed.
You rise from a box,
In a hole,
In a stone covered field,
In a city,
In a state,
In a country,
In a continent,
In a world.

A simple world,
A world you know,
But can’t seem to remember.
A strange world,
A world you don’t understand,
A world identical to all others.
Each with a person,
Each person with a job,
Each job as incompletable as the last.

You are alone,
But the noise of others cannot leave you.
You are hungry,
But are too sick to eat.
Your mouth is filled with the taste of salt,
Your hands covered in thick dust.
“My master has a plan,
They will soon free me.”

Your thoughts warm you,
But you know they are not true.
You need to work,
But you are stuck.
Stuck in the ground,
Feet sinking,
Lungs holding onto every breath.

Your body sinks into your hole,
Into your box.
Slowing this new but familiar world drifts away from sight.
The smell of burning fills your nose.
Trapped in heat,
Searing pain all along your skin.

Submerged in complete darkness,
Slamming yours fists on the top of your box,
Hoping someone hears you,
Waiting for someone to save you,
Waiting to leave this prison.

In the morning, you again rise into a simple world,
Where you are alone with only your thoughts to warm you.
Once again, your body sinks back into complete darkness.
The faint memory of repetition can’t leave your head.

Your mind, filled with the same image of freedom,
From yourself,
From your master.

You, yourself are the reason for being here,
But you can’t escape the past.

Tomorrow is another day; the same as all the rest.