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by Brian Francis

I could almost convince myself that it was a good idea
A reasonable response to the offenses cast upon me
All assurances and coaxing aside, the anger remains

I can feel it -- a great spinning vortex near my soul
Drawing away my essence diminishing me in wisps
Yet, I risked the dance, not unknowing, the penance
The devastation of rage untethered by consequences
Haunts my mortal soul yet the anger rages unchecked

Except by the fear of what I might become unrestrained
When uncaged the long-held bitter harvest of revenge
Tastes the sweet subtle promise of justice, of recompense
It is the taste of glory for me while a draft of hemlock to you
Revelation bears more than terror: a full taste of bitter truth

Still, you cower like a beat dog the act unconvincing utterly
Years of burden have tormented and sequestered me
Timidity, a garment fitted to me by your selfish arrogance
Has bound me like a straight jacket around my very being
Constraining me with bindings of shame guilt and suffering

Passionless and broken I still find the strength to stand
look into your eyes and smiling reach to unclasp the bindings
as I remove the shame of those garments and wrap you
in them with words too long left unspoken and hidden.


Posted on 12/15/2019
Copyright © 2020 Brian Francis

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 12/16/19 at 05:14 PM

Dark, cryptic voice here...very well written in its choice of words/metaphors. As an ex Chess player, the title drew me in. Merry Christmas my friend, despite despites.

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