Dirty Laundry

Only God knows why I reside in this cage of sorrow.

Imprisoned with thoughts and fears borne of terrors long ago.

It is cramped, and my bones ache from the damp of tears.

Until now, anger has fueled my existence like a slow burning coal.

I have often wondered who I am without it.

Annoying provocations in life’s ebb and flow stoke my fury.

Funny how my greatest creative moments are my life’s most painful follies.

So you may ask me “Where is the Joy of living in this prison?”

It has been easier you see, to wallow the in the familiar.

{Don’t get me wrong – I have met Joy. I have stepped out of this dingy space to embrace Joy several times. But I left the door open. And in my weakest moments I was bid “come hither,” and I climbed back into the damn cage and slammed the door.}

However, the prison cage is now rusty. Hiding here has lost its appeal.

It is hard for me to share the songs of my heart and soul

singing the tune “This is not what I wanted.”

So if you did really ask me (and I let you listen)

I would say it is time to leave this place

because there is still plenty of time to live with Joy.


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