My Dying Rage
Forever an outsider,
a key without a door
Locked in your detention,
its barrier secure
Always on the outside,
forever looking in
My actions well intended,
your eyes see only sin
I spend my time in silence,
rejection now a friend
These years I serve in exile,
one word from you could end
The walls now growing thicker,
blank paper for a cage
My spark now just a flicker,
—to light my dying rage
(Villanova Pennsylvania: January, 2017)
Copyright © Kurt Philip Behm | Year Posted 2017
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