I used to shout out to the air;
I used to laugh without a care.
I used to run, I used to fly—
But then my voice was nullified.
You cut my words with sharpest knives
And tore my soul with countless lies.
I drank my blood, I swam in tears;
I strived for nothing all these years.
My tongue was sliced, my throat was slit;
My lips were sealed by pious wit.
The sound in me, it may have died—
Yet, through the ink stains, I abide.
Your every beating falls in vain!—
For I am strengthened by the pain.
This perfect monster you desire
Will never kill my burning fire.
YOU ARE READING
Prison of Stone
Poetryʙᴇғᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇʏ ғʟʏ ᴀᴡᴀʏ, ɪ ᴍᴜsᴛ ᴄᴀᴘᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇsᴇ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛs ᴀɴᴅ ғᴇᴇʟɪɴɢs ᴀɴᴅ ʙɪɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴀ sᴏɴɢ. One journey from the depths of the sea to the edges of the universe. One life that takes us in a thousand different directions yet leaves us chained as we tr...
