Photo by thom masat on Unsplash
I am keeping a prisoner
This breath I took two weeks ago
I refuse to let it leave
It paces back and forth within me
And I can feel its dreadful march
It bangs against my chest and I
Feel the palpitations of its knocking
Sometimes it shouts to the sky
And the electricity in my head
Runs faster, as if it too desires
Flight from this great terror
But as the weeks go past,
The breath grows content to stay
It no longer bangs on the door
Of my mouth, nor the windows
Hanging over it
Instead it remains still
Mulling over some mystery it
Does not reveal to its captor
And I begin to grow tense
Aware that what I have done is sin
And that now I hang here in suspense
Wondering when it will let me go
