My Own Prison

by Lance Hardy   Apr 20, 2005


They say my eyes are pretty
But I think that's a lie
Because whenever I look into them
I see a fire slowly fading
A fire that once burned so strong

So very dim now
It no longer tells the tale
Of the happy little boy
Who'd lie on the grass, dreaming
About lives that would never be

Those were such good days
As he now no longer dreams
Everything is passing by so fast
Yet not fast enough for me
As I'm left alone, slowly rotting

Here, in my own prison

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Latest Comments

  • 19 years ago

    by Sean Allen

    Its just a different kind of poetry, and that is probably why you felt it didn't belong posted up here. But I feel like your intro proves my point. You said its about you expressing yourself, and that is just about the only definition i've been able to fit to poetry.

  • 19 years ago

    by Aken Sol

    I don't know why you didn't post this up right away. That is poetry. I know how you feel so much that it hurts. Good job :-P

    Aken Sol

  • 19 years ago

    by Knoxy

    Hey, this is great...i know wut you mean...keep ur head up and take care..
    ~Luv Alwayz Knoxy

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