The Imprisonment of Dreams

A poet’s dreams are locked

in the deepest

corridor of her brain.

Trapped,

behind sealed doors

the dreams knock,

their knuckles bleed.

In a cell, imprisoned

fed hopelessness

for breakfast and lunch.

no dinners,

the mind is left to starve.

Through the halls,

guards roam

in a state of hypervigilance,

ready to shoot down ambitions

with a lethal dose of reality.

As the poet writes

lines of misery,

her pitiful sulking

seeps from the gaps

of the prison door.

Dreams lie

on the chilly floor,

shivering

in their tattered clothes,

wailing

in synchronisation

to the poet’s weeping.

Their howls echo

towards a dead end,

where they linger

in neglect.

~

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