BLM ( / Austin, Texas, USA)

The Prisoner

Oft' times I feel a prisoner, trapped inside these bars
I cannot free myself from them
I pull at them, they will not bend
They will not come ajar
My soul is the prisoner
My body
The bars
Freedom lies beyond this life
Where peace and calm prevail
Yet I feel I must make the best of my captivity
For it is true
I have much love in this "my little cell"
Tis' also true there are times it closes in on me -
But love is my companion -
And my security -

User Rating: 5 / 5 ( 0 votes )

Other poems of BETTIE LEE MOORE (1)

Comments (0)

There is no comment submitted by members.