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Prisoner of My Fists
by Melissa Martin I am a prisoner of my fists. I peer out through the bars of my fingers. I beat up myself. I beat up others. I punch and punch and punch. The cold steel hits me in the face whenever I try to step out. I am the warden and I sentence myself to isolation. I deny my own parole because of seething self-hatred. Stuck in the middle of immovable stone I search for a chisel of hope. Melissa writes about the God and human connection and condition. Article Source: http://www.faithwriters.com |