the Room

Yesterday’s screams echo down a hall
painted red with fear.
With a silent voice for help I call
but no one seems to hear.

Thick in the air hangs the stench of escape
it lingers on his breath.
The ancestor of psychological rape
he lives a painful death.

At halls end there stands a door
in my hand a key.
What lies beyond is the inner core
the answer to all that’s me.

In this room I can tell no lies
my soul scarred with honesty.
A familiar face that I despise
his tired eyes stare back at me.

Love’s twisted mirror now in shards
a reflection of tomorrow.
Queens of two from a house of cards
will never know my sorrow.

From a tray of gold a bountiful yield
on guilt I will not feast.
Beautiful light my protective shield
shall save me from your beast.

Troy White ©2010

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