The Human Chair
Shackled to poverty,
An idle thinker,
Only myself to blame,
Imprisoned in this suit.
In these woods, in that park.
Free only to roam and wonder.
Solitary confinement in this crowd.
The flame of hope flickers,
But the wick is almost spent.
Foolish choices sit me here.
Fortuna saved me once,
I will never forget a vow fulfilled.
She will see me through.
As Phoebus scorches me,
I seek shelter again,
- No one must know my secret.
Copyright © Mike Chambers | Year Posted 2007
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