Prisoner of War

The conflict between light and dark rages on
under my skin, in my bones.
Because I try to crawl towards the light
only to be yanked back by the dark.

Because it owns me.
Because I am his.

Forever plagued by the questions
   Like what is the purpose of it all?
   Because lately I’ve been
   and I want so much more than this.

   And does love exist? And if so can it last?
   Because my heart has been scarred and shrunk in search of it.
   And the only place it seems to exist
   is in the fiction on pages of books and screens of theaters
   that we create because we can’t find it in our own mundane lives.

These questions keep me trapped in my head.
A prisoner of war to my own thoughts and feelings,
of my light and dark.
Forever a prisoner of war
as the conflict rages on.


1 Comment

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One response to “Prisoner of War

  1. The old man in the nursing home doing his thing can help you out here.

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