The Prisoner.

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Blog Post About This Poem – Please Read This Before Reading This Poem.

The Prisoner.

The Rain outside lashed with the fury
Of the Northern winds blowing and roaring,
Ah’ what wonderful sound I hear from the dungeon I sit,
The warmth of the land into the dungeon crept,
The smell of the fresh wet sand all around danced,
Thirst in the summer warmth with every blink of eyes clutched.

The dungeon of me ah’ my mind wrapped,
No human touch can break the ball and chain,
The one who can, ah’ left me to rot in sweat,
Went to drown in her self-doubt and melancholic mockery.

Oh,’ then a drop of rain upon forehead fell,
The cool through every corner spread,
The stretched empty hands in thin air felt full,
One smile of her a blessing of this kind not even in dreams I saw,
I am stuck in the dungeon of my own self-doubt,
Hearing the rain and to the wind listening.

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