Blind Vindication

blind

I saw the woes in the rhythm of her feet

As she crawled just to peak at the glass

that for long splits the angst of perfection

and the high-spirits of seclusion;

she was pale and anemic,

her lips were lilac; quacking;

there were no blood but a sting

and t’was muttering elegies on the line:

says she was incarcerated in void,

says she wasn’t baptized, a subhuman;

says she was vulgar but gagged,

says she was sick and dying

and she knew, dead was already her eternity

ever since she caressed the cuffs.

It was all after she succumbed to life

that living became a blasphemy.

There were no longer thuds to be heard,

But her echo of loathing;

enough due to the pleasantries

of the man-made hell outside prison.

She condemns society for avarice,

says it has paid no salvation

but an appetite for malice.

I told her, time would ran out

—hence, back to the cell before dawn;

Yet she begged me to break the glass

and let her out of the glooms;

I knew I had nothing to lose,

so did I hammer the barricade,

only to lose her reflection;

every day I swear to break it and free her

amid leaving myself lost in my own cell.