In a parody of mercy
I am removed from my plot
He wishes to lose no more wolves by my hands
Or wring from my lips the sounds
That even friend and kin have failed to obtain
Is perhaps His goal
In a tower of hate and fear I am kept
Beneath the stone many levels where the
Mud is thick and clinging
Slowly devouring the listless, soulless
I fight and I scramble to keep above the deadly tide
That draws and smothers and corrupts
Making the puppets that Sauron employs
For His Master's will and for His own desires
Would he make a marionette of this flesh?
He must master it first!
Cold anger and fear of death keeps me myself
I watch others subcumb, weeping
Those years I spent on the hunt
Every bounty I claimed
Began here with a silent surrender
Will I become the hunted one?
How I would welcome a clean death, even now
I fight as I have always fought, as the unseen Sun
Rises and falls again, bringing nothing
But exhaustion and desperate strength.