I am the Prometheus in the fridge,

punished by the vengeful evils

from the world where I set up a fire of courage

that kindles the candle

to bring back light.

“Let her fire forever in this freezer sleep,” they said.

I am the Prometheus in the fridge,

chained in the freezer.

My frozen heart

is dragged out, abandoned, 

regenerates and duplicates. 

Then bond as new chains 

clanging, Leaving me in mere pain.

If I rise 

would the duplicated hearts,

once piled up, frozen, hard as forts,

downfall like the Titans of Cronus?

If I rise

would those clanging chains

once locking, echoing, cold as steel,

be torn apart?

If I rise,

there will be light

penetrating through the land 

where no sun shines.

If I rise,

the fire I set on the other side

will heat up my heart, and wake up my fire

once sleeping on this dark side.

So I rise,

with no more ice

stiffening my heart and mind,

like a spear tossed toward the sky.

I cut the chains, knock down the forts

then I continue to spike 

through the eternal silence.