The Prisoner
Love dissapears slowly like a
cigarette in the rearview mirror
each day passing leaves me more barren
hatred and malace becomes stagnantly clearer
You stand on high pedastles waiting like a
hawk on power lines
intent to drive my mind to the ground
and catch me in the claws of your decaying life
The kindered spirit once open to thought
becomes hindered by your self loathing like a
fallen leaf in winters frost
Somewhere down a road where joy was lost
In hours passing one can count the battles like
distant fires in the midnight black
Their warmth and happyness
a fading memory lost in the optical illusion
I can hear yonder shores and waves
bearing freedom from your tainted embrace like
a key to a shackled man in chains
I think I’ll go to them now, and spare what still remains
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