A Slave To Myself Poem by Angela Bontle Ditumiso

A Slave To Myself



I like it down here
Where none gets to hear
The sound of my voice
When I scream and squeal
Haunted and taunted
By my past choices

I like it down here
In this place called hell
Where ghosts spell
Every now and then
And I wail until there's no
Tear to spare
You don't know
The things I've committed
Reasons I'm tormented

I'm a slave to myself
Imprisoned by a series of recollections
My soul has been gripping to a shelf
Because of my past actions

I won't yelp for help
But I'll hold on until the lifeline gets severed
Until then, I'll be slave to myself
Slave to my past

Wednesday, July 17, 2019
Topic(s) of this poem: guilty,helpless
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