Cold Walls and Broken Glass

I'm in this room,

four walls and one old window.

The door stays closed,

not to shield the populous.

They come forth to shackle me from the liberated.

There's nothing in the room,

walls depleted of color.

There is a window,

with one insignificant crack.

It doesn't bleed like me,

I sit in disbelief.

Cold as the room becomes,

the walls are what comfort me.

I am safe I mutter,

as I stare out the window.

The wind shrieks.

As I wake up realizing

I am exiled from the gift of salvation

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An old Friend... An old Friend...'s picture

Computers may be getting smarter and smarter; but they haven't figured out how to hug us yet… and it sounds like you need one lol, just kiding, once again, another beautiful poem.
-An Old Friend

Molly K.'s picture

i know my words mean nothing, just a simple atest as to who i am. that caress the very being that you are as each one pours from my soul. i'v heard better but this is your best. amazing. completely surpassed my expectations.

Kris Grula's picture

Your writing beats the shit out of me in ways I can't explain...the power,the authority...the conviction behind each word...all so easy for me to relate to...I wish that I could flow like you do...