Dead Man's Chest
I lay in the embrace of night
waiting in dismay
for the coming torture
of dawn's awakening.
I hear the early bird proclaiming its arrival
with such a subtle song
but I shut my ears
for my mind turned it
into raging cries of agony
in the midst of peaceful melody.
Wishing to hide from the day's
impending slight,
from its sharp plough,
promising to uproot the hurt
just like yesterday.
Instead I face the jabs,
my heart, in a musty chest,
which I cut out
with a rusted knife.
I chained it with
denial
and locked it with
insanity
and tossed my past into the ocean
of memories
to lay upon the mind
of the deep.
It might someday be discovered
but today it is forgotten
and the frozen light of day
can not harm
what no longer has a soul.
So I stumble forth in life's cycle
with a mask's protection lest
someone sees past monotonous motion
and ventures on conquest
to find a dead man's chest.
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