The Prisoner

In my mind exists a prison,

Two roles, a jailer, a prisoner, played by I;

The jailer is soulless while he tortures the other,

Heeding no attention to the painful cries.

 

But what has the prisoner done wrong?

He has been nothing but optimistic;

Could he have just been an innocent,

In the hands of a cynic?

 

Whip follows whip, the jailer shines no mercy,

For every ounce of inflicted pain gains him wealth,

However, no one knew that he had no glee,

He knew that in some strange way, the prisoner was himself.

 

Yet, he did not hesitate with any strike,

In a cruel way, harming himself brings him pleasure,

Therefore, he continued to inflict agony,

Distress was the flaw, but it was also his treasure.

 

This world in my head somehow made sense;

But who else could comprehend this intricate form of bliss?

Reviews

[Michael G.]

Well written, Ryan. You have a way of realistically bringing the dark side out and making the reader examine it, close up.
I agree with Benjamin L. Weekly in his thoughts. The last two lines is not in character with either of the two people in the poem. They are in character with you, the writer asking the questions.
Well done though.

[Tamelia Jade]

Wow really amazing, giving me shivers! :) I loved your imagery. The way you described this was great and I could really relate to it. Thanks heaps for this poem! :)

[Benjamin L. Weekly]

The ever-present conflict within the human psyche is brought to life here. At first I thought of some individual who might harm themselves to make money, but finally settled with an image of one who cuts for relief.

The roles are very well defined and I like the first 90% of the poem, but I would have left out the last two lines. Leaving the jailer and the prisoner a mystery would allow your readers to place themselves into your work, if that's what you're going for.