
A rotating prison…
This desolate dungeon,
All the while my smile,
Creating illusion.
Slurry speech tongue heavy,
Sun rising already,
Dismal road toting load,
Bag of woes I carry.
Isolated corner,
Not one clue or answer,
Yet you dare say you care,
In bleakest hemisphere…
Don’t come with the weight of judgement,
Cause I have no room left to spare.
No prismatic rainbow…
Golden petals in sight,
Amidst the flight of night,
Journey in black and white.
Palpitations and sweat,
Alter ego a threat,
Breath of air a nightmare,
Solitude and regret.
Engulfed in morbid fear,
My flesh I cannot wear,
Yet you dare say you care,
In dreary atmosphere…
Don’t come with the weight of judgement,
Cause I have no room left to spare.
(c) Monica St Hillaire.
A powerful poem!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you kindly, Susan.
LikeLike
I can feel the intensity with these verses. With the final verse, I feel myself out of breath.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I think it’s a place we’ve all been… When the air feels so constricted
LikeLiked by 1 person
It’s that place where just one more thing will snap our backs. Well done, Monica.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you very much, Susi.
LikeLiked by 1 person
You are very welcome, Monica! 🙂
LikeLike
This is truly beautiful Monica. Understand the message too. Nicely done. Thank you. Hugs 🤗 Joni
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks so much, Joni… Take care…
LikeLike
This is a great poem!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you for your kind words
LikeLiked by 1 person