Prisoner

I am your prisoner.
I am held hostage in your dungeon of hopelessness.
Stuck,
Behind bars of fire.
I'm burned everytime I try to escape.
My skin, charred and blackened.

Then, there is you.
You sit on your perfect throne,
Your throne of water.
You know,
You know that if you just gave me a drop of your water.
I could put out the flame.
The flame that holds me hostage from the cool, clear, crisp water on the other side of those bars.

I am your prisoner.
The others that bow at your feet in your flood of despair say, "just step through.
Just step through the flames that are burning you alive."
They say, "the cuts and burns will heal."
They say, "you are strong."
The cuts and burns will heal,
But they will leave scars.
Those scars are forever.
They don't know of scars.
They don't know of the pain behind scars.

There, the others are.
They hog the water, the freedom.
They know,
They know that if they gave just a drop of their water,
I could put out the flames, for good