Imprisoned Artist

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  • Death

    Imprisoned Artist


    It is cold like ice
    It stings like a paper cut
    It is dead and diseased
    A parasite latching to my heart
    Feeding on the hope and happiness I dare not part
    Deep...it is so deep
    A chasm of misery
    Dank with heat
    Putrid and rising
    Is the air I breathe?
    Caught below the sea
    Drowning in anguish
    I can’t see
    I am blind
    In the black abyss that refuses to shine
    Crawling through the thorns which cut
    Bruise my soul...lacerate my mind
    They hurt so much
    Those memories which although fake persist
    To torture me...the lies that I should resist
    The rain is hard and cold
    Down here below what is right
    Squinting I search for a forgiving light
    That will guide me away from this sickness
    Take the hand that wants me to forget this
    My eyes scan the dungeon
    I now reside and loathe
    A cell away from home
    A dead lifeless pit
    A lie...a nightmare concocted by myself
    My own mind has spun this terrible hell
    In regret....I kneel upon the damp dirt and pray
    That I may be released as the gnarled trees sway
    This prism corners me on all sides
    Wedging into my body
    Which, fake, lets out ear piercing cries?
    Purge the shadows
    Bring me the light
    Tell me that this place will be gone tonight
    Relieve me of this suffering
    For I know nothing worse
    Than this ache
    In my heart
    Stabbing me, making me curse
    Sending shivers of disgust down my invisible spine
    And rush of blood to my brain like sour wine
    Yes. This is sorrow, with eyes like glass
    A frigid blast which covers me fast
    Distorts the truth with its malicious tongue
    Spreading ignorance like a violent song
    Free me of your icy hands
    Break me from your cursed land
    I wish this lowly state a gift
    That it may vanish like the wind
    And sift
    Through time like an ageless snake
    And cause so many desperate hearts to quake
    Tell me you are through with me
    I have served your time
    For without these chains
    I can breathe sublime

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    DeepEclipse commented on Imprisoned Artist

    05-21-2010

    Torment. Like being in a room of toxic air. Hold your breath and suffocate, or breath the air........and suffocate. The poem grips and rips in definition. It reads to me as an unseen light that fades since mediocrocy has taken over the honor of skill. Popularity rapes individuality. Your descriptiveness is so unorthodox. There is a lot to sense in what you convey. Enjoyed the journey.

    charlamain commented on Imprisoned Artist

    07-08-2009

    wow , this one gets deep honey , i can read in to it, but wont it is awesome, it is almost calling out to me to say hey their are u free now r u ok now my friend , //God forgives all all u need is o ask him , but i dont feel whatever this poem eads to whether true to heart or just a poem that it is any or ur fault , take care my new friend

    THEWIND2 commented on Imprisoned Artist

    01-18-2009

    I would like to add you and yes I also and alien amonst my own brothers and sisters. With that being said Oh simple minded how long shall you love simplicity. You or blessed my dear. would love to have your comments pertaining to my peom broken.

    Poetry is what is lost in translation.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

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