Desperate fingers,
probe the back of my throat.
I have resorted to this, once again.
I feel so helpless,
lost in my own confusion.
Moments pass, and slowly I stand,
wiping my face with frail hands,
tears still falling upon my cheeks.
I look around,
at my prison, my hell,
and fall back to my knees.
Tiles meet bone,
bringing well deserved pain.
Feeling my body weaken,
I press my forehead to the cool floor,
and prey to the Gods that I will have strength;
I will not fall again.
 
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