The Dark Man

I walk, with head bowed,

There is no expressions now,

I have lost what was in my eye,

The cold wind blows my side,

Ice hits everything around me,

The purity of white,

And my soul, longing to be understood,

Longing for expression,

The White, it is cold,

The trees freeze my soul,

I have no understanding,

There is nothing that I know,

Save but the cold, and the White wind that blows,

I am taken up in it, it fills me,

But not with purity I see,

The White shows me my remorse,

There is no expression,

And yet the White forces me,

I must explain myself,

When I do not know myself,

I am lost in the White,

I walk with the White,

She torments me,

Pain from all that I see,

No cause is there for my pain,

Save that of a cage,

I lack the means to say,

What I feel, though I may,

Construct limits for myself,

I place myself in a cage of the White,

She takes my expression and turns it bland,

How can I make myself known?

If not by my own hand,

I wander endlessly down the white path,

Wishing each step to be the last,

I do not want my sorrow to end,

The White that binds me,

I must go again,

To the place where light still shines,

“There is no place” Says the White.

You have surrendered to me,

All that you are is mine,

If you express I will bind,

She appears before me,

She hold my heart in her hand,

She takes out the white,

She puts in sand,

“You will never express.”

No man will love your hand,

Endless you will seek,

The White has made you,

The Dark Man.

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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