"prisinor" poems
It's Dark in here.
I feel the Cold against the pores of my skin. Raw, Numb.
I draw a breath. The air - Icy, Damp and Wet.
I'm trapped inside the forgetton area of my Heart which beats so slowly, almost stopped.
The space in all our Hearts which we do not acknowledge exists.
It's Dark in here.
I'm locked, jailed, forbidden to leave.
I'm a prisinor of my own soul.
Despair my Prison Guards.
Hopelessness my Warden.
Loneliness my Executioner.
It's Dark in here.
I'm beginning to fade. I want to be free, and I think there is only One way. One way to stop the Cold. One way to escape. Yes, there is only One way to find any peace.
I am enveloped in a darkness that is strangling the spark from my existence.
It's Dark in here, without You.
You.
You, the one who is the Light to my Darkness.
The Solution to my life's question.
The Laughter to my sadness.
The Fulfilment to my utter emptiness.
The Warmth to my bitterly cold existence.
The Cure to my terminal sickness.
The Soul Mate to my heart.
It's not Dark here anymore. For when I think of you, I am Free.
Nov 19, 2015
Nov 19, 2015 at 1:11 AM UTC