Wednesday, January 7, 2015

True Religion

Night terrors etch themselves onto weak retinas; ghostly outlines remain in day an overlay of horror. 
Someone said "be safe in here from the evil, the fear": iron cages submitted to willingly
The lock upon the door turned solely by the will of the prisoners heart.

Pacing the floor, cold and uninviting. 
Detritus snagged through the bars entreating joy to take up residence.
Convinced these few shoddy comforts are the best they can afford.
Worn out mattress springs: poking, with every toss and turn.
A metal folding chair: awkward bent leg, cold, requiring precarious balance.
Still afraid.
Still unsafe.
Pretending this cage a castle.
Seeds of delusion, watered with years of faith 
Hoping one day the promise will materialize - dreams becoming eternal reality.

When all along happiness was only on the other side of the bars;
Requiring only blinking away the silhouettes, and summoning the will to step out of the squalid fortress. 

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