Enslavement

Settled is the dust of my enslavement,

Pathogens scale these walls,

Taciturn is my Heaven 

In unanswered calls.

 

Finite is my rested thumb

Laid across my sullied blade,

Hearken unto thee as graceful

As Death entering upon glissade.

 

What is life if not for the Living?

Although in a stagnant state;

The price of breath is dreaming awake,

While with fluctuating heart rate.

 

 

-Tirzah Marie