Rather an old one this but I am posting it anyway. I do love this one and it is certainly one of my best I feel.
Self made prisons are the hardest
My mind made this one
Locks, bars, turnkeys
I crafted them myself to imprison myself
This broken wing of my own mind
I created the means. A rod for my own back
And my wing broke. My mind broke. My life became lost
But this prison is home
I find comfort somehow in cold bitter loneliness
Why should I reach out. Seize comfort when this pain fits so so well
Like a glove.
And I have withdrawn to become one with myself
In my self made cell
These bars are my own fears
Would I leave if I could?
Could I just walk?
Find some god to rescue me and my broken wing mind?
Yeah gods are two a penny
Gods of self pity maybe
Mine would be one of self loathing
No self pity here. I already explored that one
I shook his hand
So I deserve this sentence
For being imperfect in an imperfect world
For enjoying my broken wing
And then I sit, crosslegged admiring my bars
No golden sun without.
Only a cold spiteful moon of memory
And I imagine a blade and immolation
Should I cut deeper
Watch the blood run. See my life force leave me
Mingling with my tears and my fears
Black puddles on a dusty stone floor
Embrace departure and finality?
A final salty tear to say goodbye?
Would that would be too easy
Too simple. The fools way out although foolishness…
It has it’s attractions.
But I want this pain. I shouldn’t end it
With this pain comes understanding
Cold biting realisation is a powerful tool
In experienced hands
So I sit, naked on a cold prison floor of my own design
And I wonder. Is my prison keeping me in?
Or keeping others out?
Should I let you in
To share this glowing incandescant pain
To share this broken wing
Should I allow you here?
Just let some light into my darkness
Can I do that?
I think not
I tried sharing and boy it hurts.
I won’t make that mistake again
It broke my wing
It killed my spirit
It placed me in this cell
Of my own design
I can’t come back from it
So I will stay here. I will taste sweet oblivion
I am alone. I will be always.
©2009 Stan Rogers