deepundergroundpoetry.com
Prison Of Flesh
Locked away in a prison of flesh
He faces a life
If one could call it that
Of solitary confinement
He'll never know himself
He'll never know a friend
He'll never enjoy a freedom
It takes a chair to make him mobile
But no matter where he goes
He will never be able to pass through those intangible bars
The bars that keep him a prisoner in his cell
In his cells
*One of my older ones*
He faces a life
If one could call it that
Of solitary confinement
He'll never know himself
He'll never know a friend
He'll never enjoy a freedom
It takes a chair to make him mobile
But no matter where he goes
He will never be able to pass through those intangible bars
The bars that keep him a prisoner in his cell
In his cells
*One of my older ones*
Published 28th Aug 2010
| Edited 29th Aug 2010
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Anonymous
28th Aug 2010 3:08am
In the deepest pits of my depression, I fear solitary confinement, being locked up in a prison or mental hospital with no visitors, so much so that I force that isolation on myself, if that makes sense. Scary and well-written poem.
28th Aug 2010 3:13am
Came to me after watching a mother take care of her wheelchair-bound son at a park. All the other children were playing and he was just sitting there, twisted up with some genetic aberration, unable to walk, move his hands, respond in any way to the loving attention of his mother's care. It killed me a little inside.
