Molasses.

I just as well could’ve,
taken to refuge in the den,
of a hungry Bengal or Kodiak…
or a long-starved African Lion;

I might as well have,
been tied to a chair,
in the very front row…
for the world premiere;

I maybe should’ve,
found my way free,
in order to avoid the show…
that was in store for me;

which easily could’ve,
been awarded ‘Best Tragedy’,
if it hadn’t been, after all…
my own sad, true story;

They may as well have,
tarred and feathered my skin,
upon forcing on me re-visiting…
such torturous memories again;

the scene could just as easily,
been paused in the darkness,
stilled by the sense of damnation…
the clock hands stuck in molasses.

5 thoughts on “Molasses.

  1. I love your use of metaphor here of torture and show.
    I pictured it all in my mind of what you went through.

    It’s saddens me to read whatever harm these people did to you.
    I know I’m just an acquainted, but if you ever need someone to talk to.
    I’m always here to listen.

    Powerful! poem my friend.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I like that. Not what it is about… Obviously. And I love the image.

    Liked by 1 person

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