Posted by: Ron DuBour | May 7, 2017

I place my hands within the furnace ~by Joseph Harshberger


 

 

I place my hands within the furnace

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I place my hands within the furnace . . . and watch as the shackles glow, each ember a memory of a life . . . I use to know.

The heat singes my skin as it burns and peels, the numbness taking over me . . . hiding what I feel.

My life all but flashing . . . right before my eyes, I don’t know what is real anymore . . . my life consumed by lies.

I sigh a quiet whisper . . . of a love once very real, the fire slowly burns away all that is left of us . . . binding it with a seal.

The tears all but turn to ash . . . as they fall into the open flames, all pride leaving my body . . . as it’s replaced by guilt and shame.

How long can I hold on to . . . this painful memory of you, what more can this humble man take . . . before theres nothing left to renew.

I can feel the shackles breaking free, as the fire takes hold of me,
I pull my hands from within the flames . . . and with all my might I bust the chains.

“Slave To My Pain”
Hour Drive Poetry©

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