Walk a mile

She Calls Me Her Muse

Frigid darkness envelopes me,
stinging my skin, saturating my soul.

I batter against my restraints
desperate to flee, to hide,
to escape.

I watch through opaque eyes
as she scrawls across each page,
with each scratch drawing blood,
a mockery in cochineal ink.

I'm dying in an agony of superficial wounds.

Pleas echo into the dingy confines
of my mental prison,
each scream for help ignored.

She calls me her muse.


Free verse. Written 31 August 2015.

Third place in "Shadows and Light Poetry Contest"  (September 2015).