No Right

This place is dark and

Empty, deep within

My own twisted mind.

Here, every joke is

A wound in my heart,

No matter how loved.

Every look is a

Dark, unrelenting 

Sentence of myself,

A punishment that

I keenly provide.

The Crime,

The Trial,

The Sentence,

All performed in the

Closed darkness of my

Own treacherous mind.

The jury of my

Mistakes tries me,

The cold judge of my

Self criticism

Rules my punishment,

And the defender,

The final shreds of

My self-confidence.

Then the heavy chains,

Keeping me bound to

This endless dark suit,

Where the verdict can

Never hope to change,

My own words inside.

Stupid

Ties my left hand down.

Useless

Binds my right with lead.

But what binds my feet,

To stop me running,

Is the simple thought,

I don't deserve this trial.

Reviews

[The Rock And Roll Cowbo..]

We are certainly our owe worst enemy and most of the time our harshest critique so I can relate to this poem. Wonderfully expressed.