The PrisonerA Poem by Tai RyensIn my mind exists a prison, Two roles, a jailer, a prisoner, played by I; The jailer is soulless while he tortures the other, Heeding no attention to the painful cries. But what has the prisoner done wrong? He has been nothing but optimistic; Could he have just been an innocent, In the hands of a cynic? Whip follows whip, the jailer shines no mercy, For every ounce of inflicted pain gains him wealth, However, no one knew that he had no glee, He knew that in some strange way, the prisoner was himself. Yet, he did not hesitate with any strike, In a cruel way, harming himself brings him pleasure, Therefore, he continued to inflict agony, Distress was the flaw, but it was also his treasure. This world in my head somehow made sense; But who else could comprehend this intricate form of bliss? © 2012 Tai RyensReviews
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13 Reviews Added on June 18, 2012 Last Updated on June 18, 2012 |

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