Literary Yard

Search for meaning

By: Mike Turner

Photo by Jimmy Chan on

We each live in prisons
Of our own design
Serving a sentence
For crimes we have committed
Against ourselves

There are walls, bars, fences
All to confine us
Insuring personal pain is maintained
Affliction is ongoing
Happiness and peace are excluded

Days stretch to months to years
Sitting in our dank cells
Lichen growing upon mildewed walls
Mold leeching through crumbling stone
Cold penetrating our bones

We contemplate no escape
No relief, no freedom
Judgement having been rendered
By our own hand
In our own minds

Yet release may come
Parole, pardon, commutation
If we only will avail ourselves
Of acceptance of responsibility
And forgiveness

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