a round robot cleans my memories,
sweeping away the debris of the worries
harbored for such a long time... each
wall provides testimony to the fears
with which they were constructed as
brick and mortar does not a prison make
in the sense of one's captivity... a
simple thought perishes in the furnace
of doubt that warms my inner sanctum
providing me with the fuel of discourse
by which I maneuver among these ruins;
down below the line of mental stability
I lurk around with time rugs on which
are contained the dust of my memories...
too young and too bold to be forgiven
by the gods of time that robbed me of my
innocence... the part I played during
those early years... when time postponed
its relevance and grace allowed forgiveness;
down inside the dungeon pit of time, I sit
precariously on the dream thorns that
alert me when life becomes too comforable
or wheeen I desire more than I deserve...
an interesting by product of my survival...
in time, there is plenty of time to surrender
to theis dark environment that has occupied
so much of me as I have grown closer to
helplessness and despair of my own life.
13 October 2021
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