Locked In Castles

Variegated palace walls
Can a pretty prison make;
Acclimated to it all,
Still, it’s hard to take —

Though they touch, and every morning,
All of that is words and words;
Banners once were halls adorning,
Now, there’s emptiness and birds —

All the sounds of forest freedom,
Heard inside suburban forts;
Life, itself, a mausoleum,
Made of rose and quartz —

Arrogated chalice calls
Ban a witty hidden lake;
Love, a thing of Spring and Fall,
Finds long Winter hard
To take

Author: Beleaguered Servant

Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.

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