The Prison of Life
I stand on knives
Looking around
All I see
Is pain abound
The walls are lined with broken blades
Jagged is the floor of nails
I look up and see the moon
The ceiling of this hateful room
The beauty, it brings me to tears
I climb the walls for many years
Finally, I reach the top
My blood I have just one last drop
I stand up to embrace my goal
And find, I have not moved at all.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
