Fear — Poetry

you simply won’t do —
you are eschewed
all bone
a poor pathetic thing
rolling in your memories
hanging on to the past
like a sacred tome —
You have no life of your own now
You’ve been assimilated —
the we, the we!

you’ve given up control —
do you get it now?
Don’t you see?
It’s far easier to cease
than to be!
You’ve little courage —
down on your knees, pleading
the begging, the begging —

the desire to be free
is no match for fear —
you’ve bathed in it for years
it’s soaked into your skin
runs rampant in your veins
’til it settles in your heart
your lungs
drips from your fingertips
rubbed raw
from counting days on the stucco walls

How long have your passions been imprisoned here?

Twelve years, twelve years!
years like memories — wasted away

©February 2014, Lori Carlson

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