Straitjacketed

People|Fred Mount Photography

Ice. Caught in fall, mid-air.

Hear me rage.

Ignoble fates, tracing the hatred raw,

Relentless on the page.

Yours is the pause,

The question bled upon the edge.

Mine – final push

To purge all off the ledge.

 

Once noble hands

My deepest knowledge clawed.

Of serpent tongues

Unyielding rave applaud

Where torture found a way

To be refined,

Splitting my soul in two,

It dredged my mind.

    

In madness lost

I watch the crown’s power

And paint its tragic hold

Upon the hour.

Hear the heartbeat drum

And shatter silence

A bard of old – stirred up

In crippled violence.