I Write For Me

Slowly I lost myself to time Painfully I became someone else I looped the chains upon my wrists I closed the manacles myself Dragging the good parts of me piece by piece to be shackled, Imprisoned. And prisoners innocent are most dangerous, angry. Why am I here?! But I refused to answer. It was, after all, for the best. It was, I believed, the only way to love. Selfless to a fault, my own jailer, And I stopped being a man beloved. Perhaps she was never the woman I thought I loved. Deception is complete when I'm deaf to myself. But life crawls into spaces abandoned Life... and by extension, love. Without a tyrant, the prisoner was freed. I came back to myself, learning... loving Who I am. Who I was. Dreaming who I will be. And I write... expressing thoughts lofty and base, I write for me. Selfishly.