These weapons grip.

They tear, and hold, and chain me to my tomb.

Metal locks leave me motionless.

Weak.

Defenceless.

My mind pushes, but my tomb doesn't move.

Days fly by.

Weeks?

No, months.

Where's my friends?

No blinking.

No sighing.

No moving.

I can't see.

Heavy chains.

Mounds of rocks on my chest.

Where's the surface?

I can't breathe.

My chains leave me bound.

Gasp for air.

I drown in a sea of dread.

Pain.

Anguish.

I'm so, so tired.