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  My Dungeon

04/30/03

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The rough-hewn walls lay all about and press into my back,

Hidden away from all the world, the cell completely black

My hands are shackled to the wall, my legs in irons too,

Upon my head is placed a mask, I never can undo.

Your knight in shining armor is what I meant to be,

With sword in hand Iíd slay your foes, and set your spirit free.

But before I could begin my quest already I was caught,

And all my good intentions have so far proven naught.

 

The rough-hewn walls in my back are societies demands,

Their expectations and taboos, that put me on the stand.

The dark black cell in hiding, is the secret that I bare,

Within it I am all alone, itís something I canít share.

The shackles on my hands and irons on my legs,

Are the chains of love Iíve placed on me, as freedom sadly begs.

The mask thatís placed upon my head keeps me silent through it all,

Cause when I look into your eyes, through hell and back Iíd crawl.

 

A knight in shining armor will save those in distress,

And when I see you hurting, you know Iíd do my best.

The sword I slay your foes with, to set your spirit free,

Is just to let you know that you can always count on me.

You are the quest Iíve longed for, you caught me from the start,

And though you do not know it, youíre always in my heart.

And though my good intentions, they do not bear me fruit,

I look forward to the day when, of my heart youíre in pursuit.

 

This fate of mine is not the end, the story is not told,

One day this mask may fall away, the cell door may not hold.

And on this day the chains will break, the shackles they will fall,

And I will turn and walk away from my place against the wall.

But now is not the time for this, in darkness I remain,

Anguished from these walls I hang, thereís nothing to be gained.

Yet silently your name I shout, and tell you how I feel,

And dream the dream of selfishness, hoping one day itís for real.

 

By: Doug Morton

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This site was last updated 02/17/03