"captor" poems
I am Leah Sharibu
I am Nigeria
I am a captive
Taken from my home
Away from love and care
Now I live in fear
In the midst of the unknown
I am Leah Sharibu
I am Nigeria
I am Leah Sharibu
Oh! You have forgotten me, probably
I wouldn't blame you
I am just a girl, you thought
But I am Nigeria
And I could be just your girl
Yet you go to bed with both eyes closed
Because I am just a girl.
How do you sleep?
How do you find peace?
How do you laugh with satisfaction
And Find rest?
Knowing I am Leah Sharibu
And I am Nigeria
I am Leah Sharibu
Who is she? I can hear you ask.
Oh! You've forgotten?
I am that "Dapchi girl"
Kidnapped with her school mates
But they are free and I am not
They gained their lives back
Because they are what I am not
That's what some people thought
But I am not just "that Dapchi girl"
I am Leah Sharibu
I am Nigeria
I am Leah Sharibu
I am Nigeria
And I am a captive
I am in chains
I am in bonds
I am in pains
And I am not free
I am still missing
I am Leah Sharibu
I am Nigeria
I am Leah Sharibu
I am a Christian
That's what you said
But I am more than a Christian
I am a girl child
I am a woman
I am a daughter
I am a mother
And I am a wife
But I am more than all these
Yes! I am
I am Nigeria
I am Leah Sharibu
I am Nigeria
Though you called me a Christian
Undoubtedly I am
Was that not why you left me behind?
Was that not why you've left me till now?
How callous? How unpatriotic?
You swore an oath to protect me
But you lied
You think calling me a Christian
Will clear your conscience
But you lie!
I am Nigeria
That's my identity
I am Leah Sharibu
I am Leah Sharibu
I am Nigeria
I have been betrayed
By Deceivers parading themselves as leaders
By cowards parading themselves as heroes
By liers who embraces you with a dagger
I have been betrayed
By enemies camouflaged as friends
I thought they cared about me
But all they want is a piece of me.
So they don't care if I bleed
I am Leah Sharibu
I am Nigeria
I am Leah Sharibu
I am Nigeria
I am not missing
You can see me
But you've refused to free me
You've made me your slave
Everyday you **** me
Everyday you **** me
Everyday you brutalise me
Everyday you torment me
Despite the oath you swore to protect me
You have become my terror
My Kidnapper
My tormentor
My killer
My captor
My destroyer
I am Leah Sharibu
I am Nigeria
I am Leah Sharibu
I am Nigeria
I can see, you don't care, who I am
You think I will just pass away
Like a shadow in the night
Another figure among the many lost
So you hope
But you lie
I am your fear
I am your shame
I am your story
Ugly but true
I am your cross
You must bear
I am your pain
And I won't go away
I am Leah Sharibu
I am Nigeria
I am Leah Sharibu
I am Nigeria
You can **** me
But I won't die
Though ****** with many swords
And bleeding on all sides
You will always hear my cries
Because I live on....
You can try to hide me
Like a woman's nature call
But I won't go away
I will be your nightmare
And walk the night in your sleep
I will be your nemesis
And follow you to your grave
I will be your infamy
Lay you bare for the world to see
I will be the truth
That topples your lies
And I pray that I will be your end
So you'd be no more
I am Leah Sharibu
I am Nigeria
I am Leah Sharibu
I am Nigeria
Another night has come
And I pray for sleep
Not knowing if I will see the dawning of a new day
You expect me to be weak
To break down and fall
You expect me to be feeble and frail
But I won't
Everyday I see the sun
I will grow strong
Everyday I take a breath
I shall be agile able
Don't expect me to give up
For I shall win at last
I am Leah Sharibu
I am Nigeria.
Jan 24, 2021
Jan 24, 2021 at 7:13 PM UTC
I sometimes stand alone and stare
at time worn face and wayward hair
that frames green eyes with brightest red
and do not recognise myself
Where is the girl that once belonged
to laughter, dancing, love and song
who always saw with lovers eyes
and sugar coated all her lies
She lingers somewhere far from here
a memory vague to those held dear
too long she has been kept apart
from you, the captor of her heart.
Apr 13, 2014
Apr 13, 2014 at 3:21 AM UTC
I am help captive in the arms of my captor
Only looking at the future it gave, no other
Walking up the path filled with grave-given, fallen flowers
I rise above the clouds having hope as my only power
This is she to me, España y Filipinas
Jan 20, 2018
Jan 20, 2018 at 2:44 PM UTC
Now tell me such a tale sir
while I am tightly bound
of captive maidens held sir
where evil knights abound.
Then taken to be used sir
in their castles of renown
of tortured girls so sweet sir
who are forced so to kneel down.
Then tell me of the dungeons sir
within the fortress drear
with chains upon the walls sir
where I might be held in fear.
Then show me what it means sir
to be such a prisoner
where nothing else is real sir
but myself as a damsel fair.
Then make me live the thought sir
that I might so lie within
and tortured all day long sir
for each imagined sin.
Then secretly find pleasure sir
in all that’s done to me
while my knightly captor sir
has me on my knees.
Then eventually confess sir,
to all my worldly sins
while my sadistic lord sir
is making me more commit .
Then tie me even tighter sir
with every knot aware
rough ****** I now need sir
to think myself as there.
Then make me taste your whip sir
to force me to submit
of the marks you leave sir
you care not a single whit.
Then take me as you will sir
and drive me really wild
make sure I’m deeply kissed sir
where I feel it burn inside.
Then hold me in your keep sir
and bend me to your will
and use my body more sir
for my needs are never still.
Then stand me on the brink sir
and show me just the edge
of where I shall be pushed sir
with just the slightest nudge.
Then tie me up and leave sir
to dream and squirm at will
of the ways I might be used sir
in your castle on the hill.
********
From the Francesca Anderssen collection of 101 **** Verses 2016
Oct 19, 2016
Oct 19, 2016 at 9:35 AM UTC
Death leaves a heartache no one can heal,
Love leaves a memory no one can steal. ~ Author Unknown
~~~~~~~~~~~
It rain heavily on the river in Kerala the next morning
I think it was a sign of things to come,
I remember our walks by the water
The warmth of the sun as it dampen your hair
this brought out your winsome boyish smile
as you playfully tossed a small pebble into the water
It became an instant Kodak moment for years to come:
We were so in love with nature that summer
I remember every moment how we held each other hands
Your loving touch, your kiss, your blue eyes
So trustworthy was I: Your lies were accumulating.
and my foolish heart was pumping harder and harder
Like a gallon of water in the desert heat: you made me fell in love with you
your love for me was like a battlefield and I were the unexpected enemy
I am still very fond of my captor, I smile from ear to ear- each time it rain heavily in Kerala
If you know your enemies and know yourself then you are on top of things:
Until death leaves a headache no one can heal: Quote:
And love no matter what: leaves lasting memories.
Jun 3, 2015
Jun 3, 2015 at 6:15 PM UTC
My eyes
Have seen in these fifteen years of mine
More horrors than many in a hundred see.
I have seen grief, and bitterness, and pain.
You have given that to me.
That has been your gift.
My heart
Beats at ten thousand times its normal pace
For fear when I see you walk into the room
I know what’s coming next-
Onto the streets,
And into a stranger’s unforgiving arms.
My skin,
Littered with bruises you left,
Is a canvas for the horrifying picture
You wish to paint me into-
One where you are the puppet master
And I your marionette.
But I am only a child,
Not a vehicle for your twisted pleasure.
My body
Will not pay your bills.
Not after you left me with a child.
I wear loose clothes to hide her- it’s a girl, I think.
And I won’t let you take her away.
My feet
Will carry me far away from here,
As soon as I’ve scrounged up
Enough spare quarters, caught on the ***** concrete
You force me into walking every night,
I'll catch a bus or two away from here.
My dreams
Will not be broken.
I am strong.
On Thursday night, I’ll fly away from here.
And you’ll forget me
I mean nothing to you.
My captor,
Puppet master,
Force of evil,
You’ll find another.
I wish her fast escape.
I will be free.
Dec 10, 2013
Dec 10, 2013 at 11:58 AM UTC
The butterfly of many talents
talked nothing but of himself...
and never stopped to Listen
or gain true conversational wealth
cloaked in flamboyent colors
his butterfly wings so huge,
captured a little lost lady moth
(looking for the moon)
and kept her as his muse
just as the wings of the butterfly
so was the moths heart large
and so she inspired her captor unconditionally..
and loved freely, fanning him...
& flapping her wings too hard...
each time they would tear ,
she'd ignore the searing pain
for with all of her inner beauty;
by no means was she vain
the butterfly misused his muse
did not reciprocate emotion
so her wings drooping stupidly
with blind devotion
were as lost shadowed in his coloring
as before.......
searching for the light of moon in black ocean
he had never saved her from the vast
sky-sea & empty Galaxy
But used her flutter as a tool
to satisfy his selfish artistic needs
the little lost moth lost flight
As she began to understand
the light butterfly provided
was a stage light made by man
all the time she lost
robbed her spirit and stole her grace
so she rubbed the powder off his big bright wings and thought
-what good is his outward beauty now that he can no longer soar in space-
Disenchanted but free at last
moth tries but can never trust color
won't inspire art or music
and will never love another.....
Nov 2, 2014
Nov 2, 2014 at 9:38 PM UTC
The princess who chose
To live in exile
Holding the hand of her husband
With a beautiful smile
Framed in a guile by Ravan
But she didn't fall in his wicked ways
Despite being held captive
And tortured for nights and days
She refused to go with Hanuman
When he came to rescue her
Insisted that Rama come openly to defeat her captor
In Rama's honor exile did she prefer
On the Ravan's defeat - to prove her purity
She had to walk through fire
But the flames neither touched her body
And nor her attire
The fire bowed in her honor
But that wasn't enough
For the clouds of gloom
Were towering above
The world has never been fair to women
Despite of proving her purity
Sita had to leave
It was the height of cruelty
Cause Rama was as weak
In the face of his men
As strong he was
In front of Ravan
Rama- the man
Sita loved enough to die for
Asked her to leave
To the path that led abhor
Just imagine the way Sita would be looking at Rama
With whom she had to part
For he was standing dumb like a statue
When her world was falling apart
Would she have accused or looked down at him
As she asked mother earth to swallow her
She was going back to where she came from
In order to save the last shred of her honor
May 22, 2018
May 22, 2018 at 3:12 PM UTC
"So the pen is mightier? who'da'thunk'it."
He said to the bleeding man tied down
to a messed, stained, bed.
The bound man figured,
even though he just got
to an LA plagued
by criminals, killers, and copy-cats,
that he wasn't getting out of here whole,
finally.
Holding a pen knife,
red-faced and sweating,
was his captor.
It had been a struggle
to awake and realize
who stood before him:
Quill.
The exact killer he'd been looking for.
He had heard about him in the Halo Herald,
An LA pun, it's not very popular,
but he liked the funny section.
"Are you just going to stand there?"
The bound man says, eagerly,
"Hey bud, you're the hanged man,
I'll do the talking."
"It's about time!"
"huh?"
"I'd been waiting.
heard you'd be at that
open mic. Knew you liked
the mealy type."
"Shuddup or I'll write you off."
Quill runs his pen knife over the bound man's right cheek.
"Stings a little.
Usually, I start with a rufie
and emotional damage.
But it looks like you
want to cut to the chase.
I'm a man of a similar mind.
spirit.
problem."
"Nobody's like me dude."
The bound man locks eyes with Quill.
"What're your trophies? huh?
I read you like to drain your victims,
cook'em dry.
don't you use their blood and powdered remains as ink?
Short stories or something?"
"Oh, an avid reader?! it's your lucky day:
you get to be part of the collection!"
The lamp nearby tumbles
to the floor as Quill lunges,
ready to ****
"Wait! Don't you want to know who I am!"
"Not really."
"I'm a ser-"
The sentence is finished by
nothing but the sound of blood
and air
gurgling
into places it was never meant to be
as Quill's blade passes through flesh.
"Pfft, what, you think you're special?"
Quill saunters over to the sink.
"I'd hate to waste ink.
but there'll be more.
there's always more.
isn't that right, Celine."
he says to no one
and stands there with a smirk
as if listening to her.
Oct 15, 2022
Oct 15, 2022 at 2:22 AM UTC
Seeping through the crack,
The light , blinded by my dark captor
******* , yearning for you.
Apr 10, 2014
Apr 10, 2014 at 4:13 PM UTC
Luxuria (Lust)
Asmodeus demon of lust
carnal manipulator
****** captor
Castitas (Chastity)
Embracing virtue
honorable wholesomeness
not through one’s weakness
Gula (Gluttony)
The egocentricity
with which the Lord of the flies
upon us relies
Temperantia (Temperance)
practicing restraint
prudence to judge with regard
remaining on guard
Avaritia (Greed)
The Mammon demon
controlling the warmonger
with vows of power.
Caritas (Charity)
Crave unselfishness
give unreserved empathy
love and sympathy
Acedia (Sloth)
Deny grace and God
so evil shall become fact
when we fail to act
Industria (Diligence)
Fortitude is a must
persistence in conviction
zealous for passion
Ira (Wrath)
In its purest form
presents violence and hate
Satan’s fate
Patientia (Patience)
mercy to haters
receiving the grace to forgive
rewards are massive
Superbia (Pride)
Lucifer’s downfall
for excessive vanity
destroys humility
Humanitas (Kindness)
Sympathy without bias
belief without bitterness
inspire kindness
Invidia (Envy)
resentful passion
an insatiable desire
potent cause of dire
Humilitas (Humility)
think of yourself less
and not think less of yourself
don’t exalt oneself
Apr 6, 2013
Apr 6, 2013 at 3:36 AM UTC
He was tortured for months
Lived worse than in hell.
Nd after all those tryings
When he finally broke free,
He couldn't bring himself
To peace again.
"you need to face your demons to fight them"
So he went back to the town
He was held captive in for months,
Not expecting to meet the demon of his nightmares
Again on the same road he first met him.
"I can't bring myself to hate you"
"you've made me like this.....you've made me to like this"
So he decided to give his captor
All the hell he went through.
Not because he wanted to wrong
The other,
But because he wanted to give
His forced unconcious feelings
A reason to be satisfied.
But for the demon
The hell was not really hell.
It gave birth to a heaven
In his heart.
They both knew it
They both loved it
They both loved each other.
Apr 3, 2019
Apr 3, 2019 at 11:43 AM UTC
I need to see the looming sky
A wide, gasping chasm of color and power
Cold and unfeeling
Hot and passionate
Black fading into red into blue
I need to feel the burning air
Arid and biting on my eyelids
******* the moisture from my skin
And the toxins from my heart
Engulfing me like the embrace of a captor
I need to see the silhouette of mountains
On the striking horizon, eclipsing the void
To gasp in the thin and desperate air
Cacti that claw at the dusty wind, and
Beg for nothing in the kingdom of bones
Dec 29, 2018
Dec 29, 2018 at 11:54 PM UTC
Minutes from my heart captor’s home
Tall grasses rustle in light wind
A small lake moves swiftly
Cicada’s have long conversations
With each other.
Conversations to last the long summer.
Entwined hands on warm cotton.
Basket of strawberries,
Sandwiches and refreshments.
Under the oak
With branches that sway loosely.
Overhead the morning dove’s sing,
Watching from above.
Warm rays of sunlight
Reflecting on the water.
It is enough to be here with him.
Dec 2, 2011
Dec 2, 2011 at 1:18 PM UTC
There's a new kind of war.
My blind willingness to follow you
into the darkest and most desolate alleyways,
my undying devotion to your warmth,
the overwhelming desparity of my struggle
all have me cardiac-arrested.
You're the captor.
It happened on the eve of a new moon,
her face turned away to hide her shame
over her daughter's decision to be guided by light.
The night may have birthed me,
but I could not ignore the brilliance of your glow.
Tides must be the forces behind your eyes
because I've seen the ebb and flow of emotion behind them.
Did you know the moon controls tides?
The waves are what bring you and I together,
contrasting yet connecting darkness and light.
Ebb--the moon pulls you towards her with the gravity of her breath.
Flow--she releases you from her imprisonment and into freedom to follow your own light.
Constanty swaying between two opposing forces:
that's when the battle was born.
I may possess enough strength to pull you towards me,
but other forces push you away and into her arms instead.
It is on the corner of her Push and my Pull
that the battlefield called Love was formed.
-mp
Sep 8, 2013
Sep 8, 2013 at 1:17 AM UTC
Darling, your eyes on me
send my heart to a place of passion,
a place of intensity.
The eyes that belong to my captor,
the ones that captivate me,
enthrall me to extents unknown to others.
Love, your arms around me
secure the love I have for you
to it's correspondent place,
right to you, where I want it,
where you want it.
Those adoring arms,
caramel, caressing, caring,
tell me that no place other than there
is where I should be.
Dear, those pressing lips
that when first mingled with mine
the universe painted my life
with colors unseen to those without love.
Oh, those tender lips!
How understanding
How mature
How amorous
How passionate
I know from the language they speak,
the language mine speak,
that other lips upon mine
would be lost in translation.
Most handsome, your love is
a taste
a glimpse
a gentle touch
of the universe around us.
Your love fulfills me.
It's worth fighting for.
Its value is greater than that
of the many treasures of the world.
It's mine now.
And, I swear,
I will hold it close.
I will hold it as if
the wind could carry it away,
even though the winds
could never steal that from me.
Your love instilled passion into my life.
Your love has set my soul on fire.
Mar 13, 2011
Mar 13, 2011 at 8:03 PM UTC
I am a war torn casualty hopelessly lost in an unfamiliar landscape.
I pick myself out of the rubble of a crumbled existence,
casting aside the well worn masks of my own invisibility.
I am stopped in this breathing place,
my quiet cocoon of safety
where unpredictability does not dwell,
but neither here does life,
neither here do I.
The silent screams that well up inside me never find their way out
and my door remains locked, the world shut out.
"The war is over," I try to convince myself.
This is my holding pattern.
I wonder will I ever feel brave
enough to unlock that door and
venture forth into life again?
Who am I without my captor's angry lies,
that cruel mouth that formed words defining me,
those rough hands that molded me
into the shapeless form of his invention?
I never thought to tuck myself away in safety,
hide myself in a tiny crack, or between pages of a book,
my treasured keepsake that I could run fingers over later,
smiling and whispering, "Yes, I know you."
No, I abandoned myself years ago,
left myself a motherless child.
The hands on the clock go round and round.
I dig through rubble behind a locked door,
searching for the girl I abandoned long ago
on the battlefield of disenchantment.
Nov 19, 2012
Nov 19, 2012 at 12:09 PM UTC
I had once herd a tale of both gooblins and goblins
that hide by the house on the hill full of robins
where no cats would lie
not a feline in site
in that case nor a horse and toboggan
If when the sun set
by your luck you'd have met
a most suddenly sense, you'll most likely regret
to inform that the norm is is most vital
a chorus recital while sleeping, the feeling is seeping
of course, he fears for the reaping
To come?
Is it done?
has it happened?
No third party captions
his captor
a mind full of rapture
to hear ever after
a rapping, a tapping
his own hands just clapping
the door doesn't move
but the grooves in the wall are expanding
these dreams so demanding
Demented dimensions
his body retention of fear and the queer
have him panting
gasps without asking
a sublime such as this
and the temperance of bliss
have the curtains been called
or is it all but a miss
guided ventures of vengeance
His soul but a remnance of courage
is left in the depths
and before us he slept
such a man who believes
in trees where the robins at ease
do enjoy such a breeze
That breath air in the room
where he lay quite awake
Till his wake
Dec 3, 2012
Dec 3, 2012 at 12:15 AM UTC
Tick tick tick tick tick
Clock endlessly ticking, clicking in my ear,
On and on, will it ever stop?
Tick tick tick tick tick
Seconds pass, slow, barely moving,
Louder and louder, practically screaming now.
Tick tick tick tick tick
Rolling over, flipping pillows, kicking covers,
Nothing, not a thing, is working.
Tick tick tick tick tick
Eyes squeeze shut, then open, drooping,
Won't stay closed, won't let me disappear into darkness.
Tick tick tick tick tick
How long has it been?
Hands moving on the clock, going...backwards?
Tick tick tick tick tick
My dreamland awaits,
Yet all I can do is daydream about those far off dreams I want to dream.
Tick tick tick tick tick
My mind is my prison,
My cruel captor, my mortal enemy, my unending undoing.
Tick tick tick tick tick
I must be going mad, utterly mad,
Stuck with this insomnia inside my blanketed asylum.
Tick tick tick tick tick
Hoping my tears will bring exhaustion,
But I'm just left in an ocean of hopelessness.
Tick tick tick tick tick
Staring at the inhuman neon numbers
That have come to rule my night, my life.
Tick tick tick tick tick
I try anything, no matter how cliché.
But not even counting coats of snowy wool can help me now.
Tick tick tick tick tick
Please lift me from this retched curse.
I'd take 100 years of sleep over no time at all.
Tick tick tick tick tick
Why won't my thoughts stop? Please!
Leave me be, leave me alone, let me sleep!
Tick tick tick tick tick
Yet they still run on, never-ending,
As the clock tick ticks away to the beat of my heart.
Tick tick tick tick tick
Ba bump, ba bump, ba bump, ba bump, ba bump,
Clock and heart in time together, intertwined as one.
Tick tick tick tick tick
As my heart slows, coming to a final stop.
I am grateful, and the clock fades off once and for all.
Insomnia gone,
I can sleep at last,
And I'm drawn into another world
Where my dreams become reality
And sheep frolick through fields
Along with me for all eternity.
Tick
Tick
Tick
Tick
Tick
Stop.
Oct 21, 2013
Oct 21, 2013 at 12:23 PM UTC
I haven't been honest,
I'm at war.
A war with no treaty.
A war I fight alone.
I have a confession,
Before you judge
hear me out.
I'm a prisoner of war.
Depression my captor.
Crimson regret bled out.
I am broken I can't move.
My heart crushed.
A fake smile my shield.
I haven't been honest,
Bulimia tortured me.
My body I dispised.
You wont understand.
Your painful words
Break me.
Before you judge
Listen,
I'm a slave with raw hands.
I'm in love with my sorrow.
My veins pour out,
Crimson regret.
You wont understand.
Depression not beautiful
I'm in an unending hell.
I haven't been honest,
I have a confession,
I cry alone at night
Silent cry unheard.
How the **** can you judge?
You don't know me *****
Now I'm stronger
I'm better than depression.
My scars
A memorial
Remembrance of things past.
Look both ways *****
I'll run you the **** over!
I won't fall this time.
To the girl that slits her wrists
Time to rise.
To the girl that purges.
an attempt to gain
Beauty
Time to rise.
To those fighting
The same war
As I have
Time to rise.
We will rise together.
Our voices will be heard.
We will not be silenced
We will scream
A chant of hope
starts with you and me.
Apr 25, 2015
Apr 25, 2015 at 9:00 PM UTC
Independence and autonomy are subjugated by the transnational bourgeoise; and a colorful Mediterranean cuisine is not dissimilar to the Machiavellian arrays of contemporary propaganda.
Therein lurks a traumatic bonding from the origins of Stockholm, which is characterised by a cryptogram of questionable empathy.
It truly is a lucrative business, oh hamster on the wheel of dissociative conformity. Have a consultation appointment with Salvatore Lucania of La Cosa Nostra.
We are boiling in a fascinating and central superintendence. Therefore, my weary and ego-dystonic figment of contemporary virtual relationship: Do not express allegiance to your captor.
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 3:48 PM UTC
Flick the Bic
and you'll get a flame.
Ignited as if magic,
a spark, explosion,
hidden within
a hard case
cold until held by
callous hands.
You become grounded.
The earth begins to claim you
as it's own.
Vines, roots
scale your body
and dig themselves deeper,
becoming one with
the captor.
It started with
a drip.
A singular orb
of pure and innocent
water,
and soon you're submerged within
that person more
than you thought possible.
The air you had
inhaled, exhaled
together
has become more
painful than the searing fire,
hitting harder than the
most crusted stone,
pushes poisonous liquid
into your lungs
with an endless swell
and leaves you breathless.
Sep 15, 2014
Sep 15, 2014 at 6:09 PM UTC
(i am my only captor)
i've missed possibility
and the 3.15 to ecuador
won't quit its wreckage
nor its descent, a mist,
wistful through glass
i'd rather shatter
in a fit of impulse
in a fit of anything
in the fit of a blue bottle in your hand
or mine (either way i'd feel concussive)
and the fit of a moldavite splinter
in the palm of the kneeling woman
accepting your absinthe-stilled rage
so her little ones' heels wouldn't
and every time you walk through my door
i'm tempted to say welcome home,
but the way you hit the pillow at night
itches my fingers to report abuse
and none is meted but to you,
so i write my greatest love-letter
upon your thoracic vertebrae
and whisper security through
your cell window pajamas,
and wait 'til hours before
first light to do it all again
when you wake.
Jan 14, 2014
Jan 14, 2014 at 11:50 PM UTC
Deep beneath deepest reaches
of the furthest recess of my mind
I found a craven creature, singing,
madly clawing blind into the darkness
desperate to find a shaft of light
by which to see its tattered tethered binds
unbound.
Screeching at its unknown captor.
Screaming to the sky.
Shrieking like a banshee being slaughtered but alive.
Bellowing, bruised, and blackened beast,
best buried deep below-
you'll never see the light of day,
Nor freedom shall you know.
Claw madly at your cavern walls;
Howl mournful;
Be untamed.
But do not expect a civil birth,
born free of shackled chains,
without first being bested
by him to whom you belong;
whose nights you terrify;
who wrote your sorrowful song
May 15, 2017
May 15, 2017 at 4:09 PM UTC