An Act of Mercy

It is a hindrance in itself to claim this fact as fiction
but the whole hole has harnessed itself to its position
and it sits and festers with puss and disease
Waiting and rotting till it breaks away like a piece of dead flesh
and the grip from the hero's hand to his damsel grows ever weaker
As she flails her legs about nearing the rim of a disgusting oblivion
And though he wants to save her,
He would also like to loosen the burden straining the muscle and bone of his arm
The weight though it may not be much might be loosened
And though she may fall, she will be safe, though a little worse for wear
In the mid-day sun the colors would wilt and fade
And she would pass through a black and white canvas, and she would be pale
and expressionless
As she entered into her own recovery room,
Stumbling over the hand me down hospital furniture
Grasping onto a false hope that he might return to be her savior
But she will soon have to find a new god, a new light
Someone to raise her up out of this new slump
It was not selfishness that made him let go
Nor self preservation,
The longer he held on it would not only tear his muscles and shatter his bones
But it would shatter her bones and tear her muscles too
Dangling above that pit of grotesque spectacle
Dreaming up a way of being an escape artist,
But no where to run to
And while they both dreamed electric sleeps of one another
The rapidly increasing growth of the hold would spread to consume their whole worlds
Words and all.