Freedom is
the longest chain;
shackles from
wrist to heart
The coolness of
my guards of stone;
and fated may
never part.
Upon the face
light cannot reach;
hidden among
the waste
The sharpest blade
to strike my soul;
and birth to this
lifeless taste.
Whips to flesh
may break my skin;
held down
by their pins
Worthless hate
they pain me so;
punishing me
of my sins.
My freedom is
as it is told;
hope chained
and left to rot
Forsaken, I've
forgot the light;
that I once
had sought.
A contest entry
- Prewritten Poems of Perfection by Michael-B.
750 points, ended November 26, 110 entries
• next poem in this contest, • Add to finalists list, or remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
i love it. so very dark.
BAM
-
that is fantsticly daemonic. erAced
-
very dark
the rhythem is fantastic.
i love the last stanza.
well done Poet
Love
Bryce
Adding your comment:
