Born into a fish bowl

born into a fish bowl
-at first you don’t see
in the early morning
the darkness is in you

you open your eyes
and love is in your heart
the sun shines brightly
on your fishbowl

you place your hands
against the glass
and all around you
are signs of mayhem

broken trees that try to laugh
the burning witches of Salem

when I was a child
I played in the fields
Around the estate

Somewhere in a dream
Of child’s play and games
I discovered barbed wire

What have I done?
That you do this to me
I couldn’t understand

I tried to hold the wire
It drew blood
I was disgusted

I cried out
A little cry
This is not love!

Early in my life
Experience was a timeline
Now I cannot stop myself
From examining every nuance

The details collect
Like broken straws around an egg
I’d go mad
Without a drink of water

A cool glass of water
Simple and real
Clearer than the sky
A miracle

You wounded fighter
Can you hear it?
What does it mean?
Every man is strapped up

It’s the slaughter road
For whatever is coming

Freedom
Is an unleavened bread
It’s hard and tasteless
Like it’s not meant to be

One fleck of gold
In a man’s vein
Too hard to be flesh
Too tasteless to be pure

The leavened freedom
Of the world
Who really needs it?

I did not fight
On the battlefield
I fought
In the playground

I was a boy
Made of balsa wood

I was not thrown
Into prison
But I was locked in my home
With the shadows

I could not reach
The light switch
I had no books to read
I crumbled in the darkness

Day merged into night
Strangers came home and went away
As the vine of mental imprisonment
Grew thicker

I was unarmed
Against the nightmares I saw
Prayers like broken pots
Took me into death

Until I grew taller
than the cracks in the pavement
Until there was more pavement
Than crack

Child alone
His mouth began to crack
His jaw parted in two
His tongue fell out
He tried to pick it up
It slid along the floor
He tried to scream
Only flowers emerged

No, it wasn’t war
There are the neglected like me
Even in a real war

Who can salve our sorrow?
Who can release us?

All our lives
We ride in a horse and cart
Tied up like bales of straw

Author: blackbird212012

I am interested in multimedia work: songwriting, art, and creative writing. I have been involved also in theatre and music performances.

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