Personal prison

stone prison16

Locked in a prison of my own making.
Iron and stone bind me, confine me.
Mortared by fear and doubt,
Bars and locks forged in misery.

Serving my sentence in solitude,
Believing I must shield those I love
From the pain of quilt by association.
I can never be someone to be proud of?

Stigma is my penitence,
Whispers and knowing glances my judgment.
Can I ever shed my shackles?
Will the tortuous voices ever grow silent?

Inside this cell of madness
Surrounded by ghosts of a clear mind
I mark the passing days scraping stone against stone,
Praying one day for a pardon, sanity redefined.

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Light and Shade Challenge: “It was built against the will of the immortal god, and so it did not last for long.” ~ Homer, The Illiad