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My chains

My chains are darkness, my mind is random,

my thoughts are mine, but you can have them.

My heart is open, but my mouth is closed,

my tears forsaken, that no one knows.

My voice echoes, off four walls,

inside my head, the primal calls.

My soul is dancing, my body still,

in control, but lost it's will.

My eyes are open, the window void,

the night of black, hollow wind employed.

My stress is high, my tension tight,

the light of day, is still my night.

My hands they linger, and dance on air,

as piece by piece, they go nowhere.

My breaths are shallow, and full of pain,

the dreams of saints, and reality's strain.

My art is words, and my words are life,

the greed of dreams, and the chaos of strife.

My ride is smooth, but illusion fails,

as day by day, the reaper sails.

My chains are darkness, even in light,

my chains are me, without sight.

My chains are dreams, just out of reach.

My chains are heavy, the lessons they teach.

©2008 David D. Vande Velde