Glass Chains of My Own Creation

Into my life fall heavy clouds of despair

bound with glass chains that make no noise.

Dingy basement on dark streets,

black boots in mud puddles splashing,

alone in my dreams of sweet release.

I do not see nor hear the dragging,

transparent chains of my own creation.

Key holder of locked chain dons mask

and hides furtively behind my back.

It dawns on me we are one and the same

as the closed chains of my mind veil me,

ethereal, suffocated by silence.

Chain bindings bite my ankles

jagged rocks beneath me invisible,

as I try to unlock chains of discord,

born of my own transgressions,

careless words in broken lines

pointing to a fractured destiny.

I rent asunder my bindings

realizing I have freedom of choice

as I fight the threatening links

radiating from desperate depths,

battle for growth and survival

and struggle upward toward light,

casting aside shadows of my mind.