I’m so tired

I’ve grown weak

I’m being worn down

Worn in

Giving in is my escape

Giving in will set me free

But can a slave fathom freedom?

I don’t even recall the scent of the air

before captivity

I may have never known it

submerged in this sin, as I am

To find rest I must give up rest

To find peace, give up peace

There is more out there

Outside these walls

Or perhaps

Perhaps I’m endentured to servitude of the wrong man

Fully fulfilling servitude as it is

It is the wrong man

And I will be better served

Serving another

Right and wrong being objective things

Objectivity of which I am convicted

A conviction greater than my satisfaction

My happy sufferance with slavery

Slavery really is the wrong word

Rather the right one easily misinterpreted

It’s something akin to Stockholm syndrome

But you and I and the rest of the world save for a few mindful outcasts hold my captor in high esteem.

He’s a gentle lover

He’s never hurt me physically and emotionally

He’s just

Not whom your gran would approve

New fashioned

Hewn from the stone cold face of this new soul free world

You see, I’m told by those that hold that evil is real

That evil is here

In his presence

Somehow

I’ve found myself at the crossroads

Of myself and my self

My concience is at odds with my heart

What I’ve known to be true is coming into question

Now I question this new truth

I don’t know how to end this

Since it’s not over

I fear the end

Yet it is that fear that drives me