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
commission
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)
Very nice
Brilliant!
The word play and imagery is stunning!
Thank you! 😀
“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