Imprisoned in ashes….
And resurrection is only a dream.
Steel, is my only friend.
And I confess my life, to rotten, cracked, and rusty beams.
The roof is my torturer.
And the ground is my lockdown.
Still, the guillotine awaits me on the outside.
But the world is static, and lacks gravity.
This world is cold.
And it brought me here.
To a place of stillness
That prevents my release, of uncontrollable fears.
It all happened, because of a game.
And this game is life.
And life is a game.
So what is pain, if it isn’t caused by pain?
I know this now.
Because within these still and consuming walls….
I feel shame, more shame, and a little bit of shame.
My cage is both cold and warm.
My cage is filled with right and wrong assumptions
And my cage is a cell.
I cannot get out.
Robert Alexander Deason Peace
© All Rights Reserved