The imprisoned one.

Something dark.

The imprisoned soul
lies behind the bars of the mind,
escape is futile,the light scarce,
through the window time passes,
while death waits at the prison door,
the gathering of shadows move,
the murmurings are getting louder.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

When death is near. We learn too late. Powerful use of words and thoughts Andrew. Life is a steady teacher. Always learning. Thank you my friend for sharing the amazing poetry.
Coyote