Prison

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic
My sorrow has brought out another poem/piece of writing that I thought might help the reader. It might be a deeper look into the broken heart. I suppose it can mean a lot of things.

Submitted: June 30, 2008

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Submitted: June 30, 2008

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I can not stop it.

My mind imprisons me.

When there was the small chance that we would be one again

it gave me hope that all was not yet lost.

Now that my other half has left me,

rejected me,

bid fair well... I see myself as a unique puzzle piece with only one rare side for me to connect with.

Even when you slid beautifully into my shape

I crashed into yours engraving myself in your crevasses.

I left you unwillingly in ablaze with pain,

confusion,

and loneliness.

It was I who put you through it;

I who tore you limb by limb.

I will suffer for my crimes whether my punishment be just

or cruel

it is what has been assigned to me.

And for your happiness I will endure the pain of drinking my own blood

instead of the pleasure I had drinking yours.

My plea for appeal will not be heard,

will not be answered.

No one will have to ask if the accused was innocent fore

guilt will be in the eye of the beholder.

I have cut myself in half with words of hate

and I will suffer the wounds

however big they may be.

This disfigured lover looks for no pity;

pity comes cheaply when suffering alone.

This mutant doesn't wish for resolution.

I will SCREAM to the heavens for my companion

but only receive a cricket's mocking chirp in reply.

As I sit here in my prison cell

I pick up other pieces of the puzzle to find a new half,

but as far as the eye can see I do not witness a piece with engravings as deep as mine.

None with quite the same curves as you

to fit so wonderfully next to me.

My prison guard has offered me a tempting knife to free myself from this world,

But how could I die with myself

knowing I have done more harm than not.

Maybe once my captor sets me free my other half will forgive me.

News from distant letters tell me I have a grim world to go back to

where love will not accept me again.

I have studied the content,

I have learned my lesson,

but I am too late to take the test.

I have failed.

I have been told I will never be tested again,

but for a man with one option,

what choice do I have but to hope?


© Copyright 2017 Michael the Archangel. All rights reserved.

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