The fires here
burn brighter
than I ever have,
they’ve lived longer
than I have been able to. The constant
pounding
pounding
pounding
pounding
pounding
in my head
is my consciousness
wanting out
of my shell
in this hell.
It wants
to be lifted
above into the clouds,
but that can’t happen.
My body is a lockbox,
and the
people
that could
O P E N
me
killed me
and robbed me of everything inside.
It’s cold in here
so the warm fires should do me some good.
They allow the frost
to melt
into a sparkling river
which now
r u n s
through my once frozen veins.
I feel
as if I could grow wings
and fly,
feel lighter
than air itself.
However
someone would clip them
once again
so I couldn’t
escape
the gravity
which pulls me down
deeper
than
the
sea.
Lockbox
By
Anthology of Eleos 