I have been fitted for a collar of iron,
A chain forged to it
That runs to my soul—
and clenches it’s
Iron grip around my spirit.
It can only take a word,
Or even an assumption,
That I’ve done something to offend
Or worse, failed, at something or failed someone
For that collar to grasp my neck
And choke my life’s energies
To nothing but a trickle.
It grows, you see.
This collar does not stay the same size.
As time goes on and my mind
continues its’ spiral of blame
It grows and grows and grows…
It’s chain twists inside me
And guts my soul until
I cannot move or rise from bed…
I am immobile—
Blaming myself for the sins I have wrought
Shedding tears of blood and shame
The collar grows until it covers my mouth,
and smothers me lifeless…
I cannot speak or breathe
Or do anything
But silently SCREAM
Behind its’ massive iron band.
It grows still,
until my life is covered, body and soul…
and the darkness around me becomes
my only friend
dwelling beside me in this self-imposed isolation.
I lay there in silence.
Waiting for my sentence to end
And the collar to once again recede….
Until the clouds roll in again.