My mind, is a rusted steel trap
You need a GPS to navigate
Its intense twisted, dark map
My soul, mocks me with a sneer
As it hides away in a sinew closet
Entombed in a cage of its own fear
My Body, a sullen beleaguered lifestyle
Never allowing me to stand up tall
As it’s bloated with anger and bile
My life is a mystery even to me
I have a misread, contorted reality
That I only allow some of you to see
My writing is dark a vision of self
Like a liquid mirror of putridity
You wade thru, to see upon my shelf
My words, hidden from the myriad few
To act as gospel for the pestilent truth
Will always be here, my eternal gift to you.
© Copyright 2016 Ian Dawn. All rights reserved.
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