release

a raven on your window sill,

and you are somewhere in its dark iris.

on a bed of dark blue sheets,

you are buried in past pleasure,

tortured by a bad conscience.

how many are those

who followed you with a begging look?

how many are those

who followed you with a hateful glare?

now, unable to leave,

you lie supine,

fading on a giant bed.

deteriorating walls are closing in on you,

you see shadows creeping along the curtains

and hear whispers that crooned songs of relief.

no friends on this remote land, where people

speak in an ancient tongue.

You are left alone, locked up in a secrete,

you persist to embrace until you fall,

just like a soldier, hell-bent to face his enemy,

never looks back to where home is free.

how many are those who called you,

but you decided to walk away?

how many are those who loved you,

but you ignored their wistful tears?

Reviews

[Tina Kline]

A very painful but realistic tale in your poem. Your words are very powerful and very compelling. The feelings of sadness, loneliness and desperation come through in a strong way. Very well written, I like this.