SHACKLED FEET

It was a stir in the pond to see
a reflection of me from another time
A hand reaching out to stay alive
Starving for attachment a precarious life
wanting me as the last excuse to stay in the cage
A mere shroud of skin and bones pretending to be a man
Unsteady feet itching for a battle
Blurring eyes had witnessed crimes
A butcher’s parrot that
was wanting to shred it self
I had just one choice
To be a friend
I knew loneliness of hurt pride
I knew self loathing of abused skin
I knew what it was to stay in one
gray shirt not expecting any visitor

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6 thoughts on “SHACKLED FEET

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