Pressure
in the moldy dank depths
of my thoughts
in the cellar of my
imprisonment
the prison of my mind,
my thoughts,
hope flits like a moth’s wing
against the scorching glass
of my lamp of light ,
my light of hope,
my lightness of being.
yet the darkness sits like a weight
- an entire house above
the cellar
and seals in the dampness
and squeezes
it out of my eyes
Copyright © Daniel Human | Year Posted 2015
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment