Breaking into Prisons

It was a rare moment,

a melting away of the past;

like dirty, bitter snow,

the prison dissolved;

Its cold chains breaking

to release something shrivelled up,

something still somewhat alive;

Enraptured, it crashed into a mirror

and broke into a thousand pieces,

which echoed every drop of blood,

and each wasted sigh;

It was a rare moment

of painted beauty;

a canvas of a well-thought

game of deceit.

And so it continued–

Another prison was made

with coloured powder this time;

Scarlet, yellow and green:

Disguised. Beloved.

© Geetakshi Arora

January 26, 2014