My wolves are at war,
Angry ******* beasts,
Mapping out their territory,
Tattooing stigmata on my flesh,
Haunting my moon,
My soul a ****** battleground,
Stripped bones,
Marrow ****** dry.

At the first speck of dawn,
I am their master,
Shackling my beasts,
To distant lands,
Decaying facades and dead spirits.
My wolves howl,
Begging,
Feed me,
Break my chains,
Set me free.

When my mind wants to stretch as high as the sky

and  my soul would move in as deep as an ocean,

When my voice needs to reverberate earth's every nook and corner;

and  my body longs for a space to breathe my life out,

Oh Mankind! Why did you imprison me?

into that clusters of tradition I didn't choose for,

into those chains of men I didn't opt for,

into the god-forbidden civilization I didn't ask for

and into the clutches of death I didn't seek for.

amidst domesticated minds is Me, the caged bird

waiting for the vault to open and the closet to collapse for I know,

Strangulated souls will be liberated by death! -

the death of narrow-mindedness!

I saw the
colossal
hearts
of this
world
destroyed
by chains,
falling down
their faces was
the residue of
their souls
as they
were watched
by cold eyes,
whose hearts
were so devoured
by the blizzard,
they could not
feel the flames
burning,
the light
of the
beautiful
ones
who broke
the chains,
and rose
as the
thousand
suns of
one

To heal
is to create

To heal is to create a
new and improved version
of what was left in a pile of
shattered emotions

To heal is to break free
from the chains
that held you back
for so long

To heal is to learn
how to breathe again

To heal is to
feel alive
and to start anew

To heal is to become
a masterpiece;
a mosaic of pain and heartache,
reimagined into the most beautiful
thing to have ever existed

I was told by my peers that letting my voice be heard was preferred, yet they say the words I speak are absurd

What's the point of freedom of speech if my words still have a safety lock. The day I will be happy is the day I find the key to chains around my throat

I don't want to drown in this ******* but just stay afloat. if I always wrote by putting my pencil on paper, why does someone else have to be my eraser

I am a chaser of dreams and a speaker of my thoughts. I will untangle the knots that they keep tying. I will preach my beliefs even when I'm dying.

As an inexplicable soul,
Trapped behind bar's
Of the flesh;

I awaiteth to break
Out of this worldly abode;
Where mine wing's canst fly
Far away from this nest.

In a white robe to be dressed,
In a Faraway home; soaring
Peaks O' unknown,
How the flowers
Impress.

None shackles to mine feet,
Nor any chem trailed air;
Just the sound's that
Surround, their word's
To flow through
Mine hair.

I'll use gold to write with,
Silver to create its depth;
O' I wilt cherish the saint's
Of gods endless breath.

Rose petals to be the paint,
As the petals never die,
Nor shalt the day turn into night,
God is the sun, the moon,
The light.

I'll gaze the foreign, strange
Sights, being no less
Important, I wilt sing
With the flowers, as
they'll appreciate my
Purpose.

©lonesome poet's poetry
©Brandon nagley