DUNGEONS FOR MY SOUL… a dark poem

Kevin Parish

Pot, Cooking Pot, Cauldron, Green, Slick

Dark, tangential grip of despair

You pull me down into the doldrums

Dungeons for my soul

Whilst I struggle to get free

With light all around me

Your blinders are placed strategically over my eyes

The doors and windows to happiness

Were but illusions to this blinded heart

Escape is a mere nod of a passerby

A stranger with a smile

But, no

The hypocrisy is not lost here

For kind words spoken without honest intent

Have shown me the way to karma

Alas, I now stew in the cauldron

Of my own tepid broth

A recipe of disaster

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