Letter Of The Enslaved Poem by Shazzie Telo

This is strange...
It is pain in every sense of the phrase.
Pain so undoubtedly overbearing
And I am under-strength to thwart such subjugation.

This is strange...
When does a thing objectionable translate pleasure?
My skin is not receptive anymore.
I am swimming in a boiling water.

This is bewilderment in all corners.
My innocence, a beyond price now corrupted.
It was not taken from me insidiously
I am the criminal of my own self
I gave it away all to gratify the appetence of the flesh.

Flesh, I have not known you fully.
Such a ravenous creature!
You are now in domination in my core.
And I, a lurdan subject of yours.

A decade now in reign you are,
Surely you have rooted deeply in my inmost being.
You outsmarted me!
Too late to realize that the red apple
was a trap when I already took a bite.

I am in a zephyr spreading my wings.
I know it is a liberation so unlikely.
Fifteen minutes of unfettering granted
Unnoticeably taking a day from my lifetime.

Why are you a candy,
A child would cry for you?
An earthly pleasure you are merely,
But an enticement to my human nature, can't you see?

Who is to be blamed then?
I am heading towards the dead end.
A rescue is needed to respond for I am
at the death's door.
A saviour might be, for there's no other way
in this cage will I be free.