Confined

 

It’s a crime to be bound around my wrists, and crowned into fists of gold bold enough to hold without a prayer. I am a disease roaming in thought at the close of the day. I ache with love, and I am embraced above simple hopes and vivid dreams that turn deadly. I built love on faith and words, but my ears are poisoned with pestilence, foaming inside of them. I do not concur with the seasoned endings of days engraved into amazement that paves the way to a bleak ending, yet justified as nothing more than a quicker way to be killed. I am a mission that never flew, and I do not beg to be flown... I make my shoulders cold. I travel throughout my own body on airplane mode, until I explode. I explore within my pulses of now infantry, and I search to be in adolescence again. During the beginning of forever, I was innocent…during the ending, I had to stand and wish. As of today’s beginning, I despise having to stand and wish. My mind is an unkind one that always begins to make me sick. I am evicted out of my body. My limits are shorter than breaths that aren’t acknowledged.