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Entombed

What is this?
I think as I awake
thrust from a most gentle state
into what I can only presume
to be some sort of abject tomb.
Made of ice, encased in stone
pressed with ice that chills my bones.
And as I curse this foreign land
I feel its weight, my bending hands.
And release it now that grim eyes see
I have room to move, almost placidly.
But wait! I think, short for breath,
It descends again- I’m compressed by death!
And so this cycle carries on,
Through lonely nights and cruel ‘morns,
until feebly resolving- I
will end either here or in suicide.
So I grasp the lid of this cursed enclosure,
yet feel my gnarled hands freeze over!
Freer than before, but still encased
as the lid descends upon this wretched place.
And as I make one last attempt,
I feel so close to freedom, yet,
what is this? It occurs, quaintly,
in my brain- ticking faintly-
as I try to stand and flee,
my coffin moves parallel to me!
And as I fall back to the ground
without hope, nor breath, nor sound
I know escape is futility,
my frozen prison... is entombed in me.

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