Colin Amato Poet Free verse

The Window

pain is the return to a state of forgotten consciousness 
that lost land in the mind that went away 
but bubbles up like boiling acid amidst a sea of rusty metal 
pain
the gain 
of nothingness 
only reminders of what was lost 
a small child crying for its mother
a friend beyond reach
the window, the birds fly 
free
staring out upon a world of small people walking crying, dying, moving
on
all free, except me
in a small box
wanting to be free
wanting to fly, cry, die, move on
the wall cracks open just a little 
the door cracks upon a little more
the window swings open with a rush of cool wind 
blows the tears the sweat, everything but the pain
as i crawl towards the wind the freedom the mountain on high 
i see below me the people like a boy upon the ant hill
i fall, flapping my wings but realizing it just doesn't work that way
down
	down
		down 	
			down 
to nothing 
back where i started before 
only different this time 
my outside a reflection of my inside 
painful and beaten to a bloody beginning

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Sara Kendrick August 7, 2009 at 4:07 PM Very descriptive. Sara

Carol Sunshine Brown August 7, 2009 at 8:01 AM Another day we are blessed to be here reading and writing poetry. Thank you for sharing your wonderful poetry today Colin. Love, Carol

Derrick Burton August 6, 2009 at 5:25 PM Some of the Poets you probaly admire from years ago, who are dead in their graves wrote some of their best poetry from some past situations. Some our best work are derived from this, to some its fire to create a positive solution, by creative poetry. :) Enjoy your night and loved you speaking your mind.