The Captive

Late at night
When the oppression
Is sleeping
I sometimes sneak
Down to the cells to
Watch the hostages in
Their slumber. All
But one have I
Despised. One was a
Beautiful long haired
Entity, for I couldn’t
Say whether it was
A man or not. I could not
Even say whether it was human or
Not. But in its agony it glowed, its skin a
Pale white, its hair a silver grey. With
Eyes like thunder it stared down at me
From its lofty perch. And I asked it why
It was here, and to this soft-spoken inquiry
It replied, “I am here for good.”