15.6.11

Jailed

Blurred images put lights upon brick,
never knew sanity looked so
                      empty

There are bars of shadows on the floor
tiles reflecting that
                      nothing matters

If who I am, is huddled in this corner
rocking, sweating early dawn;

If who I am no longer matters
Then why does the air feel torn?

12 comments:

  1. whew, this is a rather haunting write...to see yourself in that corner...the torn air...yikes....

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  2. Really gripping tale, love the last two lines, nice.

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  3. boah you're painting a dark picture - starting with the empty feeling sanity and then a punch in the stomach ending..

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  4. This hit me hard. That last line? amen.

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  5. The last two line were incredible. You put a voice to those who find themselves locked up and mostly forgotten. Powerful

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  6. I've never been to jail -- and sure hope never to end up there for the reasons your words describe. Such sadness.

    Haunting write.

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  7. sad and well written thank you

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  8. This is a stunning poem.
    You have really pierced me.
    Perhaps i relate or its great writing...both for sure.
    skill and brevity snared in a simple structure but punching well above its weight.

    Feels flawless to me

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  9. Woww... lots of thought gone into this one... brilliant piece of writing, Kelly!
    Aren't we all just jailed within the confines of our own mind?! You've brought that out so masterfully here... making us ask ourselves questions whose answers seem soooo far away, and yet, so near...

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  10. If who I am, is huddled in this corner
    rocking, sweating early dawn;

    If who I am no longer matters
    Then why does the air feel torn?

    Perhaps these words can allow someone to think twice rather than having to experience this.
    Thank you.

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  11. This was a dark and powerful piece Kelly.
    We can all, at times, find ourselves locked in some sort of prison - working out how to get out is often the problem.
    Thanks for a great read.

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