Isolated

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I think it was summer when I first awoke in this place. I can faintly remember the days from before where I grumbled about the heat but now, locked in this cage made of obsidian night with no one but Jack Frost to keep me company and air so cold it stings my lungs, it’s those days that I miss. When it’s so hot you can see the air waiver, you can feel the heat on the soles of your feet, and you’re blinded by the sun. But now I’m locked in isolation, in a prison of obsidian where the light at the end of the tunnel is nothing but a small crack in the cage. A reminder: I’m trapped.