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.
tinythoughtspoetry 
A powerful poem!
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Thank you kindly, Susan.
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I can feel the intensity with these verses. With the final verse, I feel myself out of breath.
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I think it’s a place we’ve all been… When the air feels so constricted
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It’s that place where just one more thing will snap our backs. Well done, Monica.
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Thank you very much, Susi.
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You are very welcome, Monica! 🙂
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