Hopeless Breath

A time when I questioned my Faith. I felt prisoner, secluded and shackled. I felt cold, as if every breath I took was drawing black oil into my lungs. My beating heart sounded lonely, unsecured.

His breath wails in the hollowness of my chest,

it wields storm and furious torments of rain.

Deep in my cavity, I call this my home.

My lair, dungeon… torture chamber.

My shackles nailed to the wall,

mind silenced over matter,

the matters-

that continuously flood this cavern.

His breath is warm but chill

and carries to the frost-bitten bone.

Need for the sun, mortar between bricks.

A layer supplemented

with the dangerous assumptions and lies

I hear everyday.

My breath is secluded,

rewritten in false context.

Reviews

[Morgan Storms]

Great last line and way to finish you poem. There is a ton of strong emotion in this poem!