THE MANY CALIBERS OF THE CONDEMNED

We came to hate creation
spurred into believing
it wasn’t made to be a paradise but rather
purgatory;
free will
brought us forth
to be bare bones
of air
and earth
and a destructive nature
thus sustaining:
something must die
if anything living
means to continue its life.
Alas, Negativity,
that all good things must
cease
that warmth must wound
that nourishment
guts
that the very essence of innocence
can be corrupted:
neglected
misguided
defiled
unconditionally.
Alas, Experience,
the product of environment
and the lengths we go to
to justify the crimes
of our existence…
Why, ungrateful swine
dost thou not love
thy Jailor?
Oh sweet
captured soul
most innocent child
let it rather be me
to bear your burden
now that I am seasoned
with shoulders more stubborn
to suffer your mantle.
Let it be them
to lay scars upon my weathered skin
which has grown indifferent to the disturbing
and let it be you
to quietly come to know tranquility
in my keep.
Oh sweet youth
in the confines of time
know then, that
born of your love
I exist;
draw durability from my disciplines
instead.

Here, the demons can no longer delude you.

Jillian wrote this.

6 Comments

Leave a Comment

Share Your Thoughts

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s