Prisoner of Ash

A reminder of what shackles me

Inside this husk, in which I call home,

there dwells an unwavering, innocent desire.

It wants to prevail, it yearns to roam,

yet I lay shackled in a jail on fire.

It's a blaze that burns, a kindling that kills,

a conflagration that consumes whatever it wills.

And there lay I, deaf to its crackles,

trying feebly to pry off these silver shackles.

These chains of mine are my own vices,

and although I do my best to remove them,

they wither my will with their entices.

I gaze into the flames with water-glazed eyes,

and hide its presence with a mask of lies.

I don't know how long I can keep it at bay

from consuming the life that I lead day-to-day,

but the signs are warning me to take a proper turn

before the fire swallows everything, leaving me burned.

The desire for freedom, as great as it has grown,

cannot be realized by this husk all alone.

So I search for the souls that reside close by,

amidst this smoldering rubble,

and find someone in a situation similar to mine;

a prisoner in trouble.

Perhaps by helping each other I can start to see

a way for this husk to finally break free.