I am
A captive of this home
This burden of solitude
Mine to carry, alone.
I crave
The sunshine upon my skin
Not its touch from the looking glass
A glimpse of the life I miss.
I lie
Upon this bed of persistent woes
With blankets wrapped like a spider's net
I am to never know the cold.
I see
The seasons change from my windowsill
As my life passes I feel loss
Am I to never know free will?
I cry
Because the doors are all unlocked
The windows are all open
But my mind can't escape this box.

She comes with a body. Lithe, plain.
Two things Warchief said no, don't chew.
Don't disgrace the Orc way.
If you transgress it better be just to
rip off her arms. You're in my palm.
(I'm in whose palm?)
He comes with a presence. Foreign.
Alien of the Karwa Wastes.
Don't you pass this chance on.
You recognize, don't you, when
better comes along? You're in my palm.
(I'm in whose palm?)
Douse the candles in the war hall
for me my lines arrested caught
in the splinters of dry throat
won't reach the thunderous cry
you repress, to release me.

I am here all alone in this empty place

I want to go further, leave this place behind

This is not where I want to be

But something is keeping me here

I am attached to strings

Strings painfully attached at my back

Right where my wings should have been

Pulling me back down

Keeping me from flying

Giving me nothing but pain

As I cannot move without getting hurt

They will not let me escape the tragedy of this cruel world

I have nowhere to go, but here, I know, I cannot stay

Yet I cannot go

And this strings do not only tear my back apart

But also my heart

I linger on your every word,
A faithful prisoner to your imagination.
Sailing to the beat of your expressions,
I feel myself carried across a sea of melodies.

Awaiting the chance to enter your manifest of stowed away words,
To watch them drift across the tip of your tongue,
As I glide the highs and lows of your quivering voice,
And find myself captive to your thoughts.

To sway with your mannerisms,
To cringe and buckle at the swelling of a tear,
When secret lines of heartbreak and love,
Breathe their first breath of air.

To dream and feel what you’ve seen and heard,
To experience the virtue pouring from inside,
When expressions expressed,
Are more than playful rhymes...

To extend keen ears while stanzas overflow—my goose bumps arise.
Your verse fills a void,—caressing places I never thought could feel alive.
Many pray to heal, you chose to write,
I once was trapped—*your poetry gives me life.

Cartoon Man
Held captive by the ink
The artist
Designs him
Each thought and move is public
And no soul within

Sneaking in silently,
whispering
secrets and conspiracies.

This is a puzzle,
scattered by
your thoughtless actions.

Voice still as stone,
I am held
prisoner of my mind.

The hands around my throat,
are not your's
but my very own.