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Confessions

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Wrongfully accused,
My broken feet miss the carpet,
Of a home,
Shattered without my existence,
Standing lonely in a row of neglect.
My wrinkled fingers fumble with a photo,
I’ve held so close throughout my unwelcome stay,
Because these bars hide who I once was.
The iron door clanks, for what would be my last time,
As I march down the concrete hall.
The proceeding men seem to neglect my presence,
Until they strap me in
And let the lightning bolts loose,
and acknowledge my photo which had fallen to the floor.





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miss.bliss1 said...
Sept. 19, 2008 at 8:19 pm
Very emotional poem. Good job. Love thows last lines "And let the lightning bolts loose, and acknowledge my photo which had fallen to the floor."
 
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