Bitter Prison

She said, “Its an issue of identity.”

I looked for it.

I must not have one.

Intangible objects I still wish to touch.

Faceless but still here.

Like the wind, as gravity.

It was the way she hated me.

It was jealousy.

It was bitterness.

Bitterness blocked me.

Intangible prisons

Faceless barriers

Immaterial freedom

They say is forgiveness

Forgiveness is the way back home

 

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