you didn’t figure
my short leash
into the picture

my shackle sores
I love to live to endure

rope lines
I’m embroidered
it is the texture
you’ve grown
so fond of

as delirious as
I am from suspension

my submission
to a grander

my raw knees
from crawling
every morning

a twisted tongue
from begging

a relentless scissor
by hazing
from pledging
to the desolate revelry

my soul tearing
bearing spree
that jerks me
by the collar
when I grow weak

and damn,
did you weaken me…

– B. Brown

(image courtesy of Pinterest)

5 thoughts on “Bound

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  1. “When stress harness your your creative soul, when evil shackle your innovative mind,
    when love or hate tie-up your productive skills reach deep into your brain and empower yourself
    into your gift-to-write powers unshacking yourself
    out of the prison of the powers that be
    create a new world
    turning your matter and energy
    away from Earth to energize the Planet you manifested
    outta your God endowed gift-of-writing.”
    _-Van Prince

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