The Arena

Your shackled metal handcuffs scrape the cracked cement floors 

Of a rotting prison undeserving of you.

You're kind,

Trustworthy.

But they don't care.

You were passing through the silent streets of a black night

When the unexpected shriek shattered the still silence.

Your hands are stained with the blood of a helpless victim

After the dirty deed was done by another

But they don't care.

Now you will be the vulnerable victim.

No one in the arena is merciful.

You're surrounded by criminal minds

Who have done far worse deeds than you ever will.

But they don't care.

That's what they do 

In the arena.