My Great Escape

The grains of the desk

The hard, emotionless desk

Peer back at me

My breath condences on its surface

As I take my last intake

Of sweet, glorious freedom.

 

That was I,

The prisoner of the hour

The tortured hero

For the very actions

That had saved my own soul.

 

The looming darkness

Creeping from each corner

The deafening silence

Of my own imprisonment.

 

Yet against all odds

My mind opens a door

A grand door on the stone wall

That leads me to my paradise

To my freedom

To my brothers

To my home.

Reviews

[Boris Jonathan Novak]

I really enjoyed your imagery. Great work! Thanks for sharing it.