Prisoner

Used like a rented house, daresay a whore.
With every soul I met, I stepped back some more.
Imagined monstrosities felt a chill from Ties and the boot.
Inquiring eyes followed, resisted every step,
Judging every action. Sugary words followed,
tearing away every bit of innocence and joy,
Until I felt no more, adding one to the heard of demons.
Symphony became cacophony, blood turned white,
stabbing backs, earning titles just to be stabbed,
by the likes of me, every time I emerged but cold.

Advertisements

Soil

We are nothing but soil,
we wake up every day
trade soil for soil
sit high on our dunes
soil is all we have,
it creates us, feed us,
watch us rise, grow taller,
get old and die
and in the end
we become one, the soil.
Dead or alive,
we are nothing but soil.
………………………………………………