These ropes, they burn my skin
Wrapped around my throat I am left
Gasping for air.

Bound where I stand
I am helpless and exposed
A puppet to the puppeteer.

As a single tear drops to the ground
It is quickly snatched away
Defiling the will of the tyrants.

How can anyone live like this
In a world where nothing is up to you
You are nothing but bound.

-Shorin Quicksilver

Penned by my hand on the 3rd of Phaestian, in the year 389 AF.