Hostage

He was a hostage.
It cost him dearly
but no amount of rage
could break the bonds
of fear that seared
his twisted wrists.

He was a blind man.
Taught to be kind
he couldn't see the light
for his mind was a gland
wrought with fluid
pools of bovine lies.

He kept to himself.
No one thought of
the depth of breath
brought on while
the world wonders past
like a cheesy movie.

He loved in secret.
He enjoyed his toy
in bleak sanctuary
and dreamed of
the freedom found
in smog-filled city streets.

He murdered it all
and was resurrected
into the perfect body
of a salacious prospect
who wore his chains
on the inside.

30 Lines

Free Form poem

FOLDER

Most Recent Poetry  (E) Poetry most recently written. #2035077 by Rhychus

BOOK

Journal of a Spaced-Out Brain  (E) G-G-Golly W-Wally! What's this thing right here do? #2207307 by Rhychus