Sin.

I am not a jealous person, yet the sin grasps at my heart like it owns me. I am not full of greed, yet the sin whispers its foul words into my brain. I am not an angry person, yet the sin weaves its hatred and heat into my blood. These chains hold me down, and I open my jaws to roar for freedom, yet the cold metal snaps my maw shut. For I have not the right to speak, I am a prisoner of my own. So I lay here, burns across my body, silently begging for a release. For a savior.