Adagios And Coffin Bearers (Revised) Poem by Margaret Alice Second

A still growing word-prison, lines of information:
‘detailed description of programs, justification
of priorities under guidelines' - oh, forgive me -
my heart freezes, I flee seeking romanticism,
the solace of escape

I am weary of being scared, running from a cold
embrace of black despair; while the world burns
and my mind fries forcing myself to read is torture
enough - I'm not growing morally, the appalling
isolation of a text that at best makes readers

Suicidal yet is adamant it is to be treated with
respect, tediously requires exact meanings of
each term researched while really important
things - sweetness of a melody, a warm look
in caring eyes, flowers that will soon die,

Wonder of a new life - are deemed unworthy of
a second glance: at least my headache serves its
purpose - makes it impossible to run away. The
manacles are in my head, I am chained to my
chair and cannot escape in a million years,

No song is heard, no dance commences in this
slow decay of colour and vivacity, only adagios
and coffin bearers sway - the rest is dead

Tuesday 26 Tuesday 2013