Ember

My skin peels and cracks, my eyes moisten deep,
Fitful, desperate nights devoid of sleep,
The scars have scored its unrelenting reap.
My shade stands above me now, the grim haunt:
My master, my sister, my brother;
Chains seize my throat,
            hooks clawing at my heart.

But my hand was free, and lo grabbed at
my spectre, and it took heed the words I spat:
"Know this, know well;
                   I shall win this mortal combat!"