He is strangling me to death.
He cuffs my hands to the prison railings.
I'm beaten, abused, tortured. 
I cry yet he doesn't heed.
My sorrow is his happiness;
my imprisonment, his joy;
my helplessness, his pride.
I'm helpless to my knees...
I can't stand. I can't break free...
Handcuffs on the iron bar railings
house my wrists.
I'm hurt. It hurts... am hurt.

Handcuffs. Photo source

Heya~ A day of sorrow and here I am venting it out in a creative, metaphorical, and obviously exaggerated manner.  What is this? I can only write poems when I'm in despair? I laugh at the thought. Hehehe~ Thanks for reading, guys. Don't worry, a happy post is in the drafts. (^_^) 


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