His Baskervilles Hound

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: House of Ghosts
I'll never want him free.

Submitted: April 06, 2017

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Submitted: April 06, 2017

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The smell of sorrow flows heavy
Like the blood and snow had mixed.
The clock has long since broken
From gears that'll never be fixed.

These chains envelope so gently,
Strung distant from anchors unseen;
As far as the fading laughter
I recall from ages more clean.

I remember thoughts went mad
From the boredom of this place,
But in time that bored me too;
To explain this grin on my face.

So who am I, left in chains?
And who am I, never to dream?
I haven't spoken for awhile now
Because, here, no one can scream.

Again, you ask, why I'm here
Alone with chains in the dark?
I'd tell you if I could care,
But damn this ice of a heart!

I jest, though now I'll speak plain
Of what led me to blackened tiers:
There's no one else to blame
But one man as to why I'm here.

Occasion reminds me of days
When I'd torture him with glee.
I always delighted his suffering,
So I doubt he'd want me free.

He remembers this piece of himself,
Though he'll always wish to forget;
His Baskervilles Hound, I am,
To be trapped in a Cheshire Cat.


© Copyright 2020 M. A. Yacone. All rights reserved.

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