a poem in my pocket

we all begin life as prisoners;

most of us escape our mother’s womb

only to face our own limitations.

our enemy would hold us hostage;

his methods are devious, his bonds are strong.

will satan’s fate be our own awful end?

we choose  to wallow in self-made dungeons

of addiction, shame, fear or bitterness.

our hearts slowly grow cold; our minds dark.

but there is a savior who slays the beast

he opens our prison cell and calls us into light;

we are out on parole until our ultimate release.