by Melissa Martin
11/07/2011 / Self Help
Prison bars on my lips,
Words in bondage.
Chained to childhood memories,
Searching for invisible keys,
To open rusty locks.
Prosecutor, judge, and jury,
Reside in my courtroom of actuality.
Committing no crime,
Sitting in my velvet electric chair.
Life sentence of inner anarchy,
Personal purgatory without parole.
Hunting for autonomy,
Commuting my own sentence;
Speaking my story,
Shouting down my steel walls,
Unbolting my self-imposed chains.
Stretching my larynx,
Frozen language thaws.
The padlocks boldly unfasten,
By the activation of my voice.
Melissa writes about the God and human connection and condition.
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