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Identity II: The Cage Escapes

Author:

Hyn Edwit is a university student who writes poems and stories reflecting his inner thoughts.

Bloodshot

eyes with tears crimson cradling

my face as the moon gazed

indifferent to the innocent

I once was...


I remember

living, breathing

in the ember

of some being


She laughed and smiled

She called my name

But then she cried

When the dark came


She embraced me

reassuring

that it is okay

I am unique

she always say

sighing

apologizing, telling me

convincing herself that

I'm the innocent


I can learn how to be


The days went by

the world grew small

A place so high

confined and tall


She found a house

A home she called

My sanctuary

adorned with roses wilted, whispering

welcome, my soul

rejoiced, I ran

painting pavement with crimson

and laughter of the so called

innocent


Not long after furious

she appeared

trembling, disgusted

at the innocent she made


Not long after

furious was she

crying, disgusted

at the innocent


Not long after

she was crying

the moon shattered

my whole being


The roses bloomed

strings loomed in

yet a glimpse of triumph

dawned over me


Never was I the prisoner

I served as her cage

the moon should be free

from a broken innocent


Void entered my vision,

tears of crimson still cradled my face

I remember wilted roses, whispering

welcome, my soul

rejoiced for the last time.


Pavement painted with blood

of the pretentious innocent

now revealed its true reflection, revering

my reality,

my buried identity

grinning I realized

the scoundrel that I am

desperately lived

and eternally will mark

the house

of the innocent's

prisoner

© 2020 Hyn Edwit

What do you think of this poem?

Hyn Edwit (author) on December 16, 2020:

Good day, Ruby!

Yes, you did! Our character here was caged to an identity someone gave him at a very young age but it was hard for him to contain who he really was despite how he was trained day and night to believe he isn't his own self. Later on, he set himself free and the process was metaphorically shown in the first poem, The Dance of the Scoundrel.

Thank you very much for stopping by.

Ruby Jean Richert from Southern Illinois on December 16, 2020:

My, this is deep, yet I felt the pain of feeling caged and set free. I am sitting here wondering if I truly realized your meaning?

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