Shifting prisms

 

I see the world through

shifting prisms.

Sometimes filtering colours

in vibrant flashes,

other times mournful visions

in darkened splashes.

It happens quickly.

I can be sat in my room

seeing the walls

transform,

from plainly unremarkable,

to prison cell

with etched

markings scrawled.

Each facade

is as real as the other.

 

This tomb is a prison,

but also, a lover.

It treats me kindly,

let's me open my eyes

to witness beauty,

then tells me

to walk free

and smell the roses.

 

It confines me,

when I need to recharge.

It confides in me

in the darkest hours.

Through the brittle,

cracked, peeling wallpaper,

it speaks to my heart

and tells me it will be okay.

If I just keep going,

I'll keep finding my way.

 

This room,

has seen me go through hell,

it has viewed my recovery.

Observed the good

and bad in-between.

It has borne witness

to my dreams,

and watched over me

when nightmares

have resulted

in the most ear-splitting screams.

 

This room is my doorway, 

and my locked barricade.

It gives me sanctuary when Ill at ease,

and it helps me break free

when escape is what I need.

It's a prison cell

that doesn't need a key.

This room in my head,

is the place I stay.

when things are bright

or when they are grey.

 

 

Thanks for reading

Endless Nightmares out now

300 pages of horror themed poetic storytelling

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Please take a look at my previous collection "Torn Pages"

100+ all new poems not shared here before.

https://tinyurl.com/KCtornpages

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Peace, Love and Poetry 

 

Kyle