P.O.W

redheart
It is the last hold of the enemy
And the heart is a prisoner of war
It dredges up the brutality vividly
Reliving the memory of being shackled
To the catacombs of your organism
No matter how hot the temperature
It adamantly chooses to remain frigid
Inside these cast iron bones
Fear of the known is sometimes scarier
Than the unknown
Unwilling to surrender to the liberties
It has rightfully deserved all this time
It lingers in the same neutral spots
Where life has leisurely paused to breathe again
Go ahead; kick it with your heels until it moves again
Shove it with your palms until it stirs again
Scream into its portal until it raises its voice again
And remembers its own name
Because the heart is a prisoner of war
And, this is the last hold of the vicious enemy
Like a wild animal no longer bound by a rope
It must leave this shelter on its own
In search of the jungle
Where it can be safe again

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