Bound by my hands

Submission imparted design,

testing feelings of what I cannot explain.

Torn apart with what I have inside,

bearable scars of black penetrating.

Slicing my soul to make me bleed,

under your hands where refuge dies.

Seeking out to realize what’s to blame,

nothing endless as loneliness fades.

Does it matter that I am colored in black,

or how I see death as a way for life to shine.

Underneath of my mask is my heart,

tearing away the seams left to break.

Pieces of my love floating solitude,

needing no way to come back home.

Destined to die by my own hands,

ripping apart my eyes by my tears.

Laying all down before you,

showing you the depth that I cry.

Eyes open wide mouth bandaged shut,

able to speak silence without words.

Taking back what was never given,

facing my light in your arms.

Moon cries out for understanding,

empowering weakness to control.

Letting go of who holds me down,

myself, my hands, my heart.











Johnny Newell