My old self, it does strangle me

My old self, it does strangle me

clothed in its hard shell . . . a prisoner

laying in its casket, I yearn for escape

that great flight to take me hither

Oh, downward I must descend in that long walk

seeking the darker land

release me of my old self!

free me from its clutches!

spiral me downward . . . downward

to death I must abide . . . seeking death

there I wield the axe

there I make the great swing

such hesitation is there in such thoughts

oh, but the need.  The need!

may my old self roll on the block

yes . . . by my own hand!

such beauty there is in such things

such . . . truth

released so, I may breath again

and see a new budding . . . of a new self

This entry was posted in Descriptive reflections - non-rhyming descriptive statements and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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