| |
 |
Send to a Friend |
 |
Print poem |
 |
Mp3 of Author |
 |
Poem Comments
(leave yours!) |
|
| Prison of Conscience |
I walk in and sit down
Prepare myself
Look through the silvery glass
And stare into your eyes
Blue-greenish, kind of gray
I focus on your eyes
Your ice cold eyes
Amazed at the façade you can assume
An impenetrable veil
Giving away nothing to the viewer
Except for me
I see right through your eyes
You look so unassuming
Not innocent so much as upright. Dutiful
Unlikely to transgress so completely
I ask how you could do these things
How can you rationalize such extremes
You deserve whatever consequences descend upon you
And yet you're so calm, relaxed even
You regret the necessity for such measures
But that given the circumstances,
You did what you had to do
You'd do it all again
Your enemies were fools,
weak yet irritating
And they threatened you and yours
Like mosquitoes with malaria
I ask about regrets
You feel for the innocents
A tragedy for everyone, you say
You describe feeling real fear
A most unpleasant sensation
Disappointment and horror
Relief at resolution.
A hollow pyrrhic victory
And being tired
So very tired.
|
|
