Poetry is turning out to be a very cathartic medium, I should do this more often.
Set the Mood
Sitting quietly in a dark and dank cage,
He minds his businesses and cries inside.
Not a sound could be heard despite the chaos,
Brewing in his thoughts with no shackles of false safety.
He yearns to break free from this place of torture,
A place built by those who claimed to love him.
Their love was like poison offered in earnest,
A diet of pain and suffering is all he is fed.
A chance to escape presents itself and so does he try,
Only to be met with scornful fists and bitter words.
It all hits him like the weight of exploding stars,
And so he lets out cries of desperation.
The cries turn inward leading to implosion,
Guts are wrenched by thoughts tainted black.
He takes a blade to his skin to release his demons,
Destroys all he loves to know he still feels.
They see his scars for which they hold responsibility,
Casting blame on those who’d free him.
Disillusioned he believes in their promised safety,
Not knowing a time would come for his release.
He locks himself back in his prison of their making,
Puts on the shackles of deceit and abuse.
They promise never again if he only lets them in,
As he does, so do they poke and prod ‘til he bleeds once more.
He bites the hand that feeds out of fear,
For that same hand held his head underwater.
He breathes freely now and forever,
Resenting the shackles of meager tyrants.