Hostage – K. B

No longer true, but still a poem.

Sequestrated : hostage.

Impossible to break out,
To love freely
And build trust.

Impossible to reach out,
To feel life running in me.

Forced isolation,
My mind is getting worse
And worse..

No love, no bodily exultation,
No kisses, no touching,
No tenderness,
Only the harsh sounds of boots
And the fucking howling wind.

I wish to heal, seek therapy,
Feel better, enjoy life finally.

Sequestrated by a crazy God,
I know nothing of the pleasures
Of life.
Retained, constricted, eluded,
Forgotten, burnt… Pinched,
Stung, hit, hurt, sad,
Nothing helps.

I’m forever sick on this earth.
I’m forever stuck in this house,
No chance nor authorization
To travel.

This made my life a
Wreck and a failure, I see it all
Too well now.

Freedom to taste,
To feel good and better?
Lost with drugs now.

What good sides can I seize?
Nothing.
Destroyed to the bone.

K. B

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