By Damien Knight
The passion of a recluse
is locked behind cold steel.
Imprisoned by abuse
and the key long lost.
Salvation drifted by day
hunger twisted by night.
The recluse resigned to fate
yet longed for the light.
Light, the sweet commodity
that presented the shadows
dancing like a false prophesy
of love, longing, and freedom.
The other side the lady waits
in her own cell locked betrayal
for the light of day to cast
on the recluse walls her trials.
Neither carries the other’s key
Yet together they set themselves free
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