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Kim Essary Oct 2021
Walking alone in the dark of the night
Memories of you  consume my mind as tears fill my eyes and fog my sight
Feeling as if someone came along and robbed me taking what was left of  my life
My chest burning like my heart was being stabbed with a knife
Every time I hear the words that you were denied
I catch myself gasping for breath knowing how hard I tried
I gave my all and it wasn’t enough to set you free
Now I fear I have to face the harsh reality
I may never get to hold you in my arms or see your smile light up a room again
You went in as a boy and will come out a grown man
I don’t know how I can make it in the shape that I’m in
I pray God allows me to see you to your freedom once again.  
Please be safe son so you can come home to me
I can’t wait until this is behind you
so you will finally walk free.
I love and miss you my son
the words flowed like water
the words crashed like a wave
the words freed him from the prison cell
a poetic escape
the words flowed like water
syllables sliding like synchronised speech
the words crashed like a wave
when he found the poem ending
sometimes freedom is not truly free
sometimes freedom is not truly free
Kim Essary Sep 2021
She is the  real prisoner outside those prison gates,
The one that waits by her phone and Answers it every time he calls
The one that can’t sleep at night worried about her child
She has given up her life to hopefully make it to his time of release
She fears for him every waking hour and even in her little sleep
The day of his sentencing was her sentencing as well
She no longer lives her life she feels chained inside her thoughts
She can’t watch a movie or listen to music without breaking down in tears because something always reminds her of him
She can’t enjoy seeing a father with his children because he doesn’t even know his
She spends her last dime and borrows if he needs more she’s the one that will always be there for him but the only one that he disrespects
He takes out all of his anger on her as her tears roll down her cheeks
She feels his pain and knows he’s hurt and she can’t protect him from harm
For every day he remains locked up feels like years off of her life
So she confines herself and every passing thought
I know all of these things to be the truth because the she I speak of is me.
Locked inside my own prison until the day when he’s set free
The love of a child incarcerated will forever leave scars on your heart and years off of your life
ryn Aug 2021
A parched well
with little use.
A prison.
He’d fallen.

Clamber he must,
up a ladder
that had seen better days.

Each rung whispered
promises of salvation
and absolution.
If only they didn’t concede
to the weight that betrayed
his every step.

•••

He laid broken
and splintered.
Much like the ladder,
whose top rungs mocked
with the same song

but it’s too far,
too faint to hear.


.
“Just one second, and I was left with nothing
Her fragrance still pulsating through damp air
That day came to an end
And she had lost in me her credence”
Demon of the Fall - Opeth
Steve Page Aug 2021
like lonely grass reduced to PGA lengths
hemmed in by white paving

like wild flowers in raised sleeper beds
out of reach of more fertile fields

like black-birds nesting in machined-tooled boxes
out of sight of the forest

like polar bears in a child-infested zoo
missing their glacial quiet

like a killer whale peering through glass
at knitting grandmothers

like a 58 year old man tethered to the white light of his next zoom call
while the sun breaks through a crack in his bedroom blinds

- we were made for more than this
Looking out at a tidy garden
Amanda Kay Burke Aug 2021
Strange creatures stirring
Hiding them inside our skin
Bone and flesh prison
We all have demons inside us
Alena Jun 2021
I'm tired
I'm tired of waking up everyday,
Getting up and trying to be staid,
Listening to some music and feeling nothing,
Like i lost all the things to feeling,
Staring into the celling so lazy,
And hiding of the think that I'm crazy,
But I'm and it so ******* scary,
Because I lost myself many years ago,
And I don't know where I want to go,
Or the person I want to be,
Or who I'm now in presently,
My body is my prison,
My death is the freedom,
I just want some time,
To rest or death of mine,
I'm tired,
I'm so ******* tired.
Moomin Jun 2021
The peace of this small neighbourhood, is shattered as the door caves in
As masked marauders seek with guns, the criminals that hide within
But they find no deadly drug baron, Nor killer, or ****** animal
But a grey-haired lady, small and frail, in terror as she beholds them all

At gunpoint then her hands are tied, and her walking stick cast to the floor
As she is marched by mighty men, to the waiting van outside her door
Her heart skips wildly and her breath is tight, as she is bundled roughly inside
Her dignity and rights of law, are swept away and cruelly denied

And across the town there sits a girl, with kindly, smiling joyful eyes
A teen who spends her youthful zest, bringing hope and joy to other lives
But little does she know this day, that her future days are to dwell
Not in delight and dancing halls, but in a dark and lonely prison cell
        
And elsewhere stands a local hero, a man so honoured by decree
Acclaimed by peers and politicians, as a citizen of kindly deeds
Yet on this day, he is torn away, from his family who are left in tears
As this father and devoted husband, is imprisoned now for seven years
  
Who are these ones snatched by the state, and treated so unjustly
Held without cause or consideration, and despised so bitterly?
They obey all laws and pay their dues, and love their neighbours when they can
And share a hope of a future bright, even though their hope is banned    

They are young and old, black and white, and gathered from diversity
They wage no wars, won't steal or lie, but treat all people with dignity
For their crime is not of violence, nor abuse, or fraud or robbery    
But of being Christians and trying to show, Christ-like love to you and me

And what of those who terrorize them, the land where this grim drama is set
That mighty nation, so paranoid, that it considers them a threat
This pretender to the throne, bedecked in red and white and blue
Is a jealous king who hates the ones, who, to Christ their King are ever true

But as they languish in prison cells, awaiting justice from the King
The one whose commandments they obey, is smiling down and proud of them
For their hope is not in men of law, nor international decree
But their just and loving King, Christ Jesus, and in God- Jehovah's sovereignty    


Dedicated to Jehovah's Witnesses imprisoned in Russia
Kushal Jun 2021
I Hate It.

Somewhere along the line I must have sinned,
What other explanation is there for this situation I'm in.
Imprisoned, in shackles, while one or both above and below cackle.

I am not permitted anything more than a glimpse,
Slivers of light through silver bars
That only remind me how dark is Dark.

I looking longingly towards solitude without temptation,
Yet I cannot separate the two.

Now I have an answer to a question I never before thought to ask...

Limbo is worse than Hell,
For you may still glimpse at the beauty of worlds above.
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