Most have theirs shackled
Buried deep down
Hidden
The abomination in the cellar
Fed on fish heads and scraps.
Or tamed
A toy dog, a model citizen of the mind
Kept in, house trained
Broken.
Mine roams the house
The cellar door smashed in, hanging from the hinges
Chains lying broken on the floor
Fallow for years.
Endless expanses of the mind ‘its’ now
Only one space remains safe:
Imagination.
The rest broken down, trashed, burned.
I’m safe for now in my refuge
But for how long?
How long before it finds a way in
Breaks down those walls so cautiously erected
Or pounces upon me in some other place
Presumed safe.
How many will survive till death,
Manage to keep that cellar looked?
Or have we already lost, fallen victim,
Are we living in denial?
Kept in, trained, broken.
In the houses of our own fury.
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